The Same Kind of Broken
by It Belongs In A Museum
Summary: Evelyn was many things:smart, witty, protective, rude, defiant, vulnerable. But if there was one thing she wasn't, and would never let herself become, it was a victim. Follow her through the collapse of 7th Mass where she learns skitters aren't the only enemy and as she joins the 2nd Mass, where her faith in humanity might be restored. Eventual Hal/OC. First fanfic, please review!
1. Talking

**OK, so this is my first fanfiction ever. I've never actually done any creative writing before, so feedback would be fantastic. Feel free to let me know of any criticisms, but please do so politely. I REALLY don't want to write a Mary-Sue, so please let me know if I am creating an annoyingly perfect, or just plain annoying OC. I want Evelyn to be good, and badass, but inherently flawed.**

**This story will eventually be Hal/OC, but the first couple of chapters will not take place with the 2nd Mass. They will occur with the 7th before it was destroyed. I'm trying to add some character development in the first chapters.**

**ALERT: I've written quite a bit of the story and can report that Hal and the other members of the 2nd Mass will make their appearance at the end of the 9th chapter. There is a good bit of reading before you get there, about 30,000 words, but stick with the story! I'll be worth it, I swear.  
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**Also, there are photos of my OCs on my profile, just copy the links and delete the spaces.  
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**Check out 'The Same Kind of Broken Soundtrack'. It's saved as another story.  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own Falling Skies. If I did I would be Steven Spielberg and wouldn't that be cool. I only own my OCs.**

Chapter One - Talking

Video games are liars. All those hours you can spend with that little controller in your hands playing 'Call of Duty' or 'Halo' prepare you for high-octane excitement and nerve endings bathed in adrenaline. In reality however, combat can be pretty freaking boring. Taking watch or establishing an ambush point actually involves a lot of sitting around and doing nothing. So what do you do when your primary responsibility is simply staring out at the surrounding landscape and waiting for something to happen? You talk.

"Do you think any movie stars made it?"

The girl looked up from fiddling with her dog tags, absent-mindedly rubbing the little bits of metal between her thumb and forefinger, feeling the groove carved into them. The text etched into the surface of the stainless steel read:

7th Massachusetts Militia Regiment

Name: Walsh, Evelyn C.

Blood Type: AB+

Height: 5'7"

Eye Color: Blue

Hair Color: Red

She made a face at the man standing next to her, "What the hell are you talking about, Max?"

"Do you think any movie stars made it through the invasion? 'Cause you know in that movie Zombieland, they there are like six people left on the planet and they end up meeting Bill Murray. I'm just wondering how plausible it is that I could run across, like, Angelina Jolie on a scouting trip. Seeing her taking down a skitter? Hot."

Evelyn made a gagging sound, "Seriously, dude? I'm only 17 and do not need to be emotionally and psychologically scarred by your creepy old-man fantasies." She quietly picked her way up the hillside in the dark of night, clutching her flashlight and Colt Model 733 assault carbine. The only light there was to see by was that little bit emitted by the moon and stars that managed to filter its way through the leaves of the trees overhead. If this was 'Halo' she would have had night vision goggles or something like that. Evelyn stumbled on a root that caught the tip of her bulky combat boots and quickly straightened herself before Max noticed and used the opportunity to make fun of her. She blew the hair out of her eyes and cleared her throat. "Besides, Angelina Jolie is overrated. Kate Beckinsale is much more likely to have made it."

Evelyn often wondered how she ended up best friends a 36-year-old Recon Marine. But given that she was living in a post-apocalyptic hellscape battling an alien menace, the bar for 'normal' changed somewhat. Max was the big brother she never had. They bickered and fought, but there was an undercurrent of trust that had been established almost since their first encounter. They first officially met a week after she joined up the 7th Mass, but their first encounter was before that. He was actually the one who found her. She had found herself caught in a firefight between the 7th Mass fighters and the mechs (that was what they called those giant bipedal robot things). She had been hiding out in a vacated McDonald's when the front window blew in with the force of an explosion from right out front. After jumping out that broken window, she had scrambled underneath a car to avoid the bullets and the creepy death-ray lasers, watching the feet of everyone and everything around her. Some of them had had six feet, some of them were made of cold metal, and some of them were human. Things had quieted down and she was about to crawl out from her little hole like a meek little mouse trying to avoid the big bad cat when a single shot rang out and a figure with six legs, two arms, and green, rough scaled skin fell into view. She had wanted to scream, but she couldn't. Then she had felt two rough hands grabbing her feet and dragging her out from her safe place. She had struggled and struggled until a voice told her to calm down and shut the hell up. When she finally opened her eyes she saw deep brown eyes, tanned skin, and a shaved head. The man had dragged her behind him, tossed her in the back of the vintage Chevy Impala he was driving, and took her back to the abandoned warehouse where the 7th Mass was stationed. He got out of the car without saying another word, leaving her there to make the introductions herself. Needless to say, her gratitude to the stranger who had saved her had been tainted with some anger and resentment.

In that first week she was with the 7th Mass, she had wandered around aimlessly trying to find her place among this group of people. Many of their faces bore the same scared, hopeless, resigned feeling that had penetrated the depth of her soul. She had tried to help out as best she could, she did the washing and cooked the meals, but after an alien invasion it felt so trivial, so useless. And then she decided that she wasn't going to be resigned or without hope. She wanted to contribute, she wanted to fight, but most of all, she just wanted to shoot something. Believe it or not, blowing the heads of skitters could be really therapeutic. Unfortunately for her, she had seriously romanticized the idea of being a fighter, expecting to go from high-school senior to Sarah Connor in a matter of weeks. She was standing in the heat of the dusty salvage yard next to the rust-stained warehouse where the 7th Mass was stationed. The solitude provided by the walls of crushed cars surrounding her was comforting. For some reason, such solitude gave Evelyn a certain peace of mind. She was a loner, had been for years now. No close friends, no confidants. Just her and her thoughts. That probably made her adjustment to alien occupation easier than it was for most.

She was practicing hand-to-hand combat, hitting a punching bag. Every time her fist made contact with the bag, a cloud of dust and settled on her skin, leaving her sweaty and grimy and her hair sticking to her forehead. She wiped at the sweat that was dripping into her eyes, took a steadying breath, and went in for another swing. The bag barely moved. Quite frankly, making a total idiot of herself, but at least nobody was around to see. Evelyn might be a loner, but she still had her pride, and her attempts to achieve badass-itude were not exactly coming across as dignified. She was never exactly sporty. In high school her extracurriculars involved practicing piano and dancing ballet instead playing say of soccer or lacrosse. She was sweaty, exhausted, more than a little bit annoyed with herself and with the world. She was not in the mood to take crap from anyone. She delivered a few more hits to the punching bag until her knuckles started to bleed a bit. Through her exhaustion, the ground started to look pretty comfortable, so she plopped down despite the fact that the place was probably a tetanus factory. Rubbing her aching hands, she stared into space, contemplating her own inadequacies. A snort then echoed across the clearing, reverberating against the walls of the steel labyrinth she had retreated to. Realizing that she was not, in fact, alone, Evelyn raised her eyes to meet those of a well-muscled Hispanic man sitting on the hood of an abandoned car, the same man who had saved her and abandoned her within the space of two hours. And now he was watching her, shaking with silent laughter. She narrowed her eyes at him and growled in a manner that was supposed to be intimidating. "What the fuck is your problem?" she said through panting breaths.

The guy's eyebrows shot up immediately and his face darkened. "You kiss your mother with that mouth, princess?"

"You can kiss my ass with yours", she retorted angrily, then making a face when she realized the sheer awkwardness of her own wording. "What exactly is it that you're laughing at?"

His face morphed so that it bore a condescending smirk and he replied, "I thought that it was pretty clear, I'm laughing at you darling. You signed up to be a fighter and you can't even throw a punch? I mean, look at you. Your stance is all off and you haven't even wrapped your hands. If you keep going you're probably going to break one of the bones in your hand. You'll probably end up getting someone killed."

Evelyn huffed and ran her hand through the hair that fell out of her loosely tied bun. She felt the bile rising in her throat. She already felt useless enough as it was and she needed to do something, to be something. She needed some element of control in this fucked up world. Having her own insecurities was bad enough, but having a complete stranger voicing them as well was simply intolerable. All of the frustrations of her current situation came bubbling to the surface. Before she knew it she was yelling at the top of her lungs, "At least I'm TRYING! I'm sick of feeling like dead weight. I'm not just some parasite that latched onto the 7th Mass to eat its food, drink its water, and parade around like some ditzy sorority chick. I can't just stick my head in the sand while people are being murdered by Mothra's alien offspring." During her little outburst, she approached the car the guy was sitting on. Once she reached him she folded her arms and glared hostilely before she resumed. "I may be a complete freaking disaster, but I'm not going to stop working. So back. The fuck. Off. "

The conversation devolved from there, turning into a fifteen minute shouting match which ended with Max calling her a rich bitch and Evelyn calling him G. I. Junkless. And that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. OK, actually it was the beginning of a highly dysfunctional friendship in which the fondest expression used was the phrase, "you're an idiot."

That little interaction was a little over four months ago. Since then, Max had subjected Evelyn to a grueling training regimen: hand-to-hand combat, weapons training, surveillance, even the bike mechanics. She really sucked at the bike mechanics. She was already familiar with archery, which she personally used to think was the nerdiest sport in existence, behind badminton of course. Apparently being a nerd had an upside. Sometimes Evelyn found the entire situation frustrating as hell. The phrase "drop and give me twenty" now immediately triggered her patented eye-roll. Apparently Pavlovian responses can be instilled in humans too. They became partners on their scouting trips, they trusted each other, they had each others' backs, but that didn't stop them from bickering like a brother and sister locked in a car during a cross-country road trip. And for the first time in a long time, Evelyn wasn't alone. Apparently solitude was overrated.

"So if a celebrity were to survive, who do you think it would be?" Max asked loudly, kicking aside a stray beer can.

Evelyn made a hushing noise. She had only been scouting like this for one month. Max wouldn't let her participate until he was sure she was ready. Mr. Miyagi was a bit overprotective. She was still a little jumpy, and didn't appreciate his blasé attitude, whether or not it was genuine. "Come on, Max, we're on patrol. Last time I checked that meant that we are supposed to SILENTLY survey the area and report back to command. I thought the marines were supposed to be 'swift, silent, deadly'," she grumbled, "And after the chili you ate for dinner I think 'silent, but deadly' would function as a more accurate description."

"You wound me, Lyn!" he cried dramatically, placing his hand over his heart. She couldn't help chuckling lightly.

Heard a twig snapping and held her hand up to silence her talkative partner. Evelyn walked towards the brush and probed it with the muzzle of her gun. A raccoon the frantically scampered away and she breathed a sigh of relief. She shot her partner a sidelong glance. "Chuck Norris. Chuck Norris made it through."

"Yessssss!" He yelled, far too loud for her comfort.

"Shhhhhhhhhh! Shut up, Max!"

"Oh, come on, Lyn. It's completely dead out here. We're not going to see any action tonight. And as the great warrior poet Ice Cube once said: 'If the day does not require an AK, it is good'."

Evelyn let her head fall back and rolled her eyes, laughing lightly. "You lifted that line from 'Generation Kill'. Don't you find it a little bit odd that all your marine anecdotes are lifted from a TV show about marines?"

He glared at her, "Shut up."

Evelyn started shaking with silent laughter and managed to gasp out through giggles, "Nice comeback. Elegant in its brevity."

And that's when she heard it. The sound of metal hitting metal and the whirring of hydraulic limbs which had become all too familiar over the past few months. In the dead of night in the middle of rural Massachusetts, that was never a good sound to hear. Max and Evelyn immediately switched off their flashlights and crouched to the ground. They slowly and stealthily crept to the top of the hill. Evelyn got to the top first, stationed herself behind a bush, and peered into the dark. Her eyes widened and a quiet "Oh, shit" slipped through her lips.

Max crept up next to her. "What's the sitch, Lyn? Animal, vegetable, or mineral?"

"All of the above."

"Damn."

She watched, her eyes glued open in horror at what she saw. There were at least four mechs patrolling around what looked like an abandoned prison. Well, formerly abandoned anyway. An impossible number of skitters, well, for the lack of a better word, skittered around the complex with droves of zombie-like children with what looked like large extra-terrestrial slugs on their backs. Evelyn felt herself fight off tears as she stared down at the helpless kids who had probably already been orphaned. The worst part was, with those harnesses on their backs, they didn't even care about what they had lost. There was just emptiness.

Evelyn cleared her throat, subtly wiping at her eyes. "You were saying something about not seeing any action tonight? I'm thinking you might want to re-think that little prediction."

"Yeah, it would appear so," he whispered back. He was back on stealth mode.

They needed a closer look to fully assess the threat. Evelyn grabbed at the binoculars hanging around her neck and eyed the landscape for the best vantage point. She settled on an abandoned, burnt out Chevy pick-up at the very peak of the hill, about 200 meters away. Unfortunately there was virtually no brush to conceal her. She took a deep breath and steeled her nerves. She joined the 7th Mass to make a difference. I mean, given her situation she didn't have much lose. She was going to snuff it soon enough, her days were numbered and she knew that. Better to go out saving someone else. Time to put up or shut up. "Cover me." She crouched and ran as swiftly and silently as possible, staying low to the ground to avoid detection.

The skitters had chosen a great base of operations, the bastards. It was virtually impenetrable. Through her frustration Evelyn acknowledged the irony of needing to break INTO a prison. She stayed at that vantage point for a good fifteen minutes, making mental notes on the defenses and the movements of the enemy combatants. There was always a mech guarding the front and back gate, the other two constantly patrolling the outer perimeter. Given the noise being generated from the interior of the complex, Evelyn was confident that there were at least two more mechs inside the complex. There were too many skitters to count, marshalling the harnessed children out of the complex, no doubt to be carted off to fulfill some creepy, creepy purpose. And that's when she saw it. Four more skitters emerged from the surrounding forest, and they weren't alone. They were dragging some kids into the complex, screaming, crying, CONSCIOUS kids. This was a harnessing station. She had just stumbled upon a harnessing station. She felt sick.

If this was an action movie she would have run down that hill screaming like a madwoman, cutting a swath of destruction through the skitters and rescuing the kids. But this wasn't a movie. And she wasn't Rambo. She had no choice but to turn her back on those kids, regroup, and come back with reinforcements. Just as she was about to return to her partner, she heard an angry voice screeching above all the others. She froze in shock.

"LET ME GO YOU UGLY SONS OF BITCHES!"

Holy shit. She knew that voice. She had grown up hearing that voice. That voice belonged to little Ben Mason.

In combat, you end up doing a lot of talking, but sometimes there just aren't any words.

**Please review. I'm needy and require validation.  
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	2. Welcome to the Jungle

**Thanks to all those who followed/reviewed the last chapter. I would like to say that I would never ever hold my story from readers to produce reviews, but I really would like feedback and guidance because I really don't know how to do this. I would like to know what you guys think of the dynamic between Evelyn and Max. I'm trying to make a realistic, platonic friendship/partnership between the two.**

**In the next chapter I will be introducing some more OCs, members of the 7th Mass.**

**Also, there will likely be a lot of cursing. I think the FCC is limiting the reality of the situation. They would be cursing a lot in real life.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Falling Skies'.**

Chapter Two: Welcome to the Jungle

Ben Mason. Ben freaking Mason. The kid that once got a marble stuck up his nose. The kid she once assaulted with my mother's Chanel lipstick (that was a fun afternoon). The kid who stuck gum in her hair whenever she annoyed him. The kid who grew up right across the street. The sheer elation Evelyn felt knowing he was alive lasted for about a millisecond until the realization of what was about to happen to him sunk in. Her stomach dropped. He was about to get harnessed, and she couldn't do a damn thing about it.

"Fuck, shit, damn, son of a bitch." Every expletive in the book flew out of her mouth at an alarming rate. Ben was gone. They hadn't been close for years, but, if she was being honest with herself, he was one of the few people she could have ever called a friend. Oh, God. Were Mr. and Mrs. Mason still alive? And Matt, adorable, sweet little Matt? And Hal, what about Hal? She knew how close that family was. They must be devastated. Through her grief there was still a tiny spark of joy knowing there was a chance that the others might have made it through the shitstorm that was the skitter invasion. And that joy brought on a wave of guilt. There was no upside to this situation. None at all.

A loud crash brought Evelyn back to her senses. The mechs were beginning to move in her direction, leveling one or two trees in their approach. They were probably doing a perimeter sweep to make sure their base hadn't been compromised. She made a mental note of their tactics. She shook her head, trying to regain her wits, and looked back to Max. He was gesturing frantically. Yeah, it was time to get the hell up out of there. She couldn't help Ben now, but she would be back. Harnessed or not, she had to come back, for him and for his family.

Evelyn scrambled to her feet and darted back towards her partner. Thank God she was fast. And believe it or not all those years of ballet classes may have had a hand in allowing her to move so quickly and quietly. The awareness of how one's own body moves and functions can come in handy when running for your life. Ballet came in handy in terms of her post-apocalyptic survival capabilities. What a joke. Actually, now that she thought about it, this is probably one of very few scenarios where her training could have had any practical use.

When she finally reached Max he cuffed her over the head and let out a harsh whisper, "Lyn, what the HELL were you doing up there? I've been trying to flag you down for, like, five minutes. We've got to go. Another few minutes and those mechs would have been right on you."

They grabbed all of their equipment and began to sprint. They needed to take a seriously round-about way to get back to camp, just to shake any skitters that might be tailing them. Once they were sure that they weren't being followed, they slowed to a more leisurely pace. Evelyn felt totally drained. Ben was the first person she encountered that she knew from before the invasion started. Her father hadn't been in the picture since long before the invasion and her mother had been taken on that very first day. The first familiar face she found belonged to someone who was as good as dead. Worse than dead, actually. He was a vegetable. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hands, as if trying to wipe away all the grief and frustration her discovery had given rise to.

Max kept glancing surreptitiously at his partner's face, eyeing her like he was trying to figure out a particularly infuriating puzzle. "So you want to tell me what happened back there?"

"Not particularly," she said tersely through her gritted teeth. The grief and shock had faded somewhat and now the overwhelming emotion pumping through her veins was that of anger. She was PISSED. And she really needed to shoot something. They arrived at a barbed wire fence. Evelyn slipped out of her knapsack of supplies and threw it roughly over the fence. Pointless physical exertion was, after all, the cure-all for pent up frustration. She then scrambled under the wire, catching the back of her shirt on the barbs and ripping it somewhat. The wire sliced into her back slightly and she felt droplets of warm, sticky blood running down the small of her back. She didn't mind the ensuing pain, though. In fact, she was a little bit comforted by the stinging between her shoulder blades. It cut through the numbness. It reminded her she was still alive, something she needed after the horrors she just witnessed.

Evelyn picked up her pack from the ground and turned back to Max who was still standing on the other side of the fence. She raised her eyebrows expectantly. "You coming, old man?" she asked, her voice a mixture of frustration, fondness, and amused derision. Max just looked at her like she was an idiot, wordlessly opened his own knapsack and pulled out a pair of bolt cutters. He casually cut the fence and swaggered through.

"That's how you avoid hepatitis." He walked past her briskly and shouted back at her, "You comin' princess?"

"Of course, Maximilian." He rolled his eyes at her nickname for him.

The next five minutes on the way back to command passed in complete silence. They dodged through the pine trees, not bothering to turn their flashlights on since the cloud cover had shifted and the almost full moon was shining down on them brightly. The forest seemed peaceful at night. How ironic was that? Evelyn used to be afraid of the forest. To her, it had always seemed like it was hiding something dangerous in the dark brush, whether it was black widow spiders, or snakes, or bears. Especially bears. They were, after all, godless killing machines. But now Evelyn wasn't scared anymore, because there was nothing left in the forest that could hurt her. Nothing except the things she was fighting. Evelyn glanced back up at her partner. She could tell by the stiffness in Max's shoulders that he was seriously irritated with her at the moment. He was making what she called his "grumpy turtle" face.

His voice broke the silence. "I need you to tell me what the hell happened on that hill, Lyn. You may be a bit jumpy sometimes, but I have never seen you freeze like that before. I'm your partner and I need to know if this is going to happen again. It could end up costing your life or mine, and I am far to pretty to die."

"And I'm not?" she asked, trying to deflect.

"You haven't shown any signs of stupid teenage girl insecurities yet, Lyn, and now definitely isn't the time to start." He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him, staring down at her harshly. "What the hell did you see?"

Evelyn looked into his eyes and then down at those crappy, mud-covered combat boots that she loved so much. "It was a harnessing station." The sound that came out of her mouth was nothing more than a broken whisper. She felt the hands on her shoulders tighten, the nails digging into her skin. It hurt, but she didn't say a word. What Max was going through at this moment was probably unbearable. She was the only person in the 7th Mass who knew this, but Max had a 10-year-old son. His name was Charlie, but when he talked about him Max only ever called him Goose. Apparently the father and son shared an unreasonably strong love for the movie 'Top Gun'. Before she knew about Charlie, Evelyn had once attributed to Max the moniker 'Maverick'. After that little incident he had screamed at her and refused to talk to her for two days before breaking down and explaining the situation. Charlie was taken during the initial invasion. Max blamed himself, but there really wasn't all that much he could do seeing as his left arm had been broken and his right had been dislocated. But then again guilt never really seemed to follow the rules of logic, did it? That cold, dark prison was probably where Charlie had been taken. Where he had, for all intents and purposes, died.

Evelyn grabbed Max's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Silence on the subject seemed the most appropriate response. There was nothing she could say to make the pain go away, and Max would probably resent her for even trying.

"I knew one of the kids," she muttered, biting her lip and shoving her hands in her pockets. "Grew up with him. I babysat for his parents a few times." This was the first reference Evelyn had made to her life before the invasion. She twirled the hair of her pony tail, like she always did when she was nervous. She wasn't good at sharing information about her past. She didn't like to open up. And that was one of the reasons she and Max got along so well. He didn't press for information. Not often at least.

"Shit, Lyn. I'm sorry. Seeing someone you know violated like that, seeing them as a vegetable. I know if I saw Goose-"

"He wasn't harnessed."

"What?"

"He wasn't harnessed. He was being dragged in. He's not gone yet," she said quickly. A weak smile then crept to her lips. "He was fighting back." She didn't know the little nerd had it in him. Most of her memories of him involved him having a book in his hands. The day he got his first library card he had had the biggest smile on his face. Seeing him screaming and cursing and hitting and punching was so shockingly out of character that she had, just for a moment, held out hope that it wasn't actually Ben she had seen. But that had only lasted for a few moments. You never really know what you're capable of until you face a situation in which it becomes necessary. Before meeting Max she didn't think she had it in her either, the strength to fight back. "You never know what you're capable of until you have a reason to try," she mused to herself. Hal would have been proud of his little brother. She might not know him that well anymore, but she remembered enough to know that.

It was Max's turn to be reassuring. He squeezed her shoulder. "When we get back to command, we tell Clayton. We'll get some reinforcements and try to get him out of there."

"I won't freeze up again," she stated simply. Now that she had experienced the shock of seeing the harnessing station, she could deal with it. They both knew she was telling the truth.

They were about two-thirds of the way back to command when the terrain changed, forest opened onto field, spanning about 300 meters till the next line of trees. Evelyn absolutely hated this part of the trek. It was way too exposed and the grasses reached just above her waist, potentially concealing any manner of threat. Plus it was really itchy. She called it 'no-man's land'. She hesitated at the edge of the trees and took a calming breath. "Fear does not exist in this dojo," she reminded herself silently.

Extending her left foot to breach the barrier of protection formed by the trees, she noticed something in the periphery of her field of vision, something with lots of legs and lots of scales.

She heard Max's voice from behind her. "Fuck." Her thoughts exactly. For the second time that night she pulled out the binocs. There were seven skitters escorting six kids, heading directly to the complex they had just left. It was lucky that Max had decided to change up their route home or they would have run straight into them. The children looked like they varied in age from seven to fourteen. Their hands were bound and they were gagged, lambs being dragged to the slaughter. Her lips formed a thin line of determination and she nodded to herself. Not today. Not again. She couldn't help Ben, but these kids were someone else's Ben, someone else's child, someone else's brother or sister. She glanced back at Max, his face mirroring hers. A look of mutual understanding passed between them. She knew exactly what he was thinking. Those kids were someone else's Charlie. That was all the motivation they needed to do something incredibly, mind-numbingly stupid.

Max extended his hand out, lowering it towards the ground and then using his index and middle finger to point to the 2 o'clock and 10 o'clock directions. Evelyn nodded in understanding. We would be flanking the group from opposite sides, staying low to the ground and hiding in the grasses. They both went to their knapsacks. Evelyn pulled out the weapon she was still the most comfortable with, her crossbow. It wasn't a regulation weapon for the 7th Mass, but no-one could argue with the results. Max fished out the sound suppressor he kept on hand and screwed it onto the muzzle of his rifle. The odds were not in their favor, two people against seven skitters, so silence was absolutely imperative. Once they prepared themselves, they shared a look which clearly said, "Nice knowing you." Each extended their right hand, grasping the other's wrist. They nodded to each other and moved out in different directions.

Evelyn had engaged the skitters plenty of times before, that 6 inch scar running down her right calf was evidence enough of that. But every other encounter had been planned and strategized by command. Right now she was flying by the seat of her pants. Despite the uncertainty of the situation, she found herself incredibly, unnervingly calm. The anticipation of conflict made her jumpy, but when a target was acquired, when she saw the enemy, she was just fine. "Chill as a cucumber" as Max would say. Because when she saw them she knew she could fight them. She wasn't afraid of death, hadn't been since she was 14. She was afraid of failing to accomplish something before death came for her.

The blades of grass tickled her face as she crept towards the convoy. Once she was in her position, she whistled the two-note bird call that served as a signal for her and Max. When he responded, she quickly loaded her crossbow and rose out of the grass. She took out two skitters within the first few seconds. Head shots. A slightly vindictive smirk appeared on her lips. Shooting skitters was therapeutic. She heard the muffled sound of Max's rifle. Five shots. No matter how silent the attack, the other skitters noticed when four of their compatriots collapsed on the ground unceremoniously. The element of surprise was lost and all hell broke loose. Unfortunately the skitters were perceptive bastards. Once they were aware of the enemy's presence, there was no real use hiding anymore. They would see each movement of the grass as she and Max moved through it. So she threw caution to the wind and stood up, crossbow ready to shoot. Maybe she would distract them long enough to let Max take out a few more.

As Evelyn suspected, the attention turned to her. Two of the skitters ran straight at a breakneck pace. Her first arrow went straight through the eye of the nearest one and it crumpled. She went to load her bow a second time and was just about to take aim when one of the feet collided with her chest forcing her to the ground, pinning her there. Her aim with a gun was fairly inferior to her aim with an arrow, but guns certainly had the advantage of rapid fire. The crushing pressure on her chest was replaced with searing pain when the arrow which was in her hands just seconds ago was forced into her upper thigh. She cried out in agony as she felt it slowly being twisted and force further into her leg. This was one sadistic skitter. She willed herself to remain conscious. She heard another shot from Max's gun and began to laugh gleefully. Those kids would be OK.

Evelyn felt a rough, scaled hand wrap around her throat and lift her off the ground, effectively cutting off the laughter that was still erupting from her mouth. She could feel the pressure on her carotid artery, the pulsing of the blood in her head became more and more forceful. If she didn't do anything soon she would pass out and then she was done for. She clutched frantically at the hand, trying to lift herself high enough that the blood flow wouldn't be completely cut off, but when she felt the hand tightening she knew she needed a new plan. Maintaining brain function wouldn't matter all that much if your trachea was crushed.

In the distance, she heard Max's voice cry out. "Evelyn!" Uh-oh. He only ever used her full name when he was really pissed or really terrified. He was too far away. He couldn't help her.

Her mind was racing. "OK, stay calm. Think, think, think." Little white spots appeared in front of her eyes and she became sleepy. In a last-ditch effort to save her own life, she let go of the hand that was squeezing the life out of her. She frantically reached down to her leg and wrenched out the arrow that was so deeply embedded in the muscle there. She screamed in pain and then, with all the strength she brought the point of the arrow up through the base of the skitter's skull. There was a sickening crunching noise as the arrow slid all the way into the skitter's head, only stopping when it contacted the top of the braincase. The hand dropped from her throat and she hit the ground hard.

A wave of relief washed through her. However, given the rate of blood loss, she couldn't revel in the fact that she was alive for very long. The wound to her thigh had been deep and it definitely needed some field dressings if she was going to make it the 3 klicks back to the rest of the 7th Mass.

"Evelyn!" She heard a panicked voice breaking through her interior monologue.

"I'm good for now, Max! Take care of the kids. I'll be there ASAP."

Evelyn grabbed at her knapsack and fumbled through it until she found what she needed. She switched on the flashlight, grabbed some nail scissors and began hacking away at the bloodstained fabric of her jeans. It was a terrible shame, she thought absentmindedly, she really liked that pair. Dabbing the wound with some white gauze, she directed the light to it to observe the color of the blood. It was a dark red. Venous blood. That was good, easier to control the bleeding. Evelyn let out a sigh and closed her eyes for a moment. She was lucky, the arrow had missed the femoral artery by about an inch. If it had been hit she would have minutes to live. She reached back into the bag and yanked out a Ziploc filled with sugar. She liberally poured the sugar over the wound and wrapped it as tight as possible. It was a temporary fix, but it would get her home.

She hobbled over towards Max and the kids, unceremoniously stomping on the corpses of the fallen skitters. "Hey," she whispered breathlessly as she approached them, trying not to wince at the pain shooting up her leg with every step. Max pulled her into a tight, one-armed hug. "You're an idiot," he mumbled into her shoulder. "Why did you stand up like that? You turned yourself into a fucking target!"

"Tsk tsk Max. Mind your language, there are children present," she said her lip quirking upwards into semi-pained half-smile. "And that was kind of the point. I was a distraction. And I'm fine. I'd be better with medical attention, so let's get the hell out of here."

"Language," he said with a weak smirk.

Looking him up and down, Evelyn saw that he had a gash above his left eye that didn't look too bad, but his left arm was hanging uselessly at his side.

"You dislocated your shoulder," she said matter-of-factly.

"Sure did!" he responded brightly. He had had problems with that shoulder since the invasion. She walked up to him, bent his elbow at a right angle towards his chest, and then rotated it outward while pushing up until she heard a pop. "Fucking OW!" Max growled, trying to keep his voice down.

"Shut up, you baby." Evelyn then turned to the kids standing a few meters away, staring at her wide-eyed and terrified. "OK guys," she said in a hurried whisper. "I would love to get to know all of you right now, but we need to get back to our camp. Just shut up and follow us quick as you can. We can introduce ourselves in a few minutes. Come on."

Evelyn and Max moved out, and the kids followed behind them. Evelyn could have sworn she heard a quiet murmur of "thank you" from the girl right behind them. They picked there way through the woods and arrived at camp just as the sun was coming up. She relaxed. She had done it. She had saved someone.

Max's voice broke through her reverie. "Holy shit, Lyn!" he said, eyeing her leg and the angry purple bruises that had formed around her throat. In the dark he hadn't been able to see the severity of her wounds.

"Relax, Maximilian," she said rolling her eyes, "I'm on my way to see the doc right now." However, her confidence wavered when, as she walked to the warehouse, she began to see spots again. The exhaustion she had been pushing away for the past two hours overwhelmed her. She reached out for the doorknob and missed it. She leaned against the wall and tried to recover her senses, but instead sank to the floor as the darkness took her.


	3. Small Rooms

**Disclaimer: I called Spielberg, and he wouldn't give me the show, that jerk. So I still don't own 'Falling Skies', just Evelyn and her friends.**

Chapter 3 – Small Rooms

Everything was fuzzy. Everything looked fuzzy and felt fuzzy. Everything except for that pounding headache. Slowly the details began to come into focus. The entire room was disorienting with all the colors and patterns she couldn't quite make out. Oh, shit. Was she dead? No, dead people don't get headaches. Unless hell really did exist. If it did, she would have hoped for something more creative then a headache. Though, now that she though about it, an eternal headache would make a pretty damn good punishment.

When everything finally came into resolution, Evelyn pushed herself up on her elbows and looked around. She groaned and flopped back down onto the bed she was apparently lying on. She was in hell, and hell looked like a hospital room.

The term 'hospital room' was, of course, a very generous one. In reality it was just a corner of the warehouse that had been cordoned off with shower curtains and tarps and then scrubbed down with industrial grade solvents so strong they could probably melt her handgun if she left it in the tub long enough. There was a slight tugging when she moved her right arm. She glanced down and saw a large needle sticking out of the crook of her elbow, held down with silver duct tape. Her eyes followed the tube adjacent to that needle until they finally rested on a clear bag filled with a dark red liquid.

Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. Evelyn actively tried to calm herself down, to curb the anxiety brought up by the bed that she was lying in. She hated hospitals. She had been in hospitals long enough. She had to get out.

She rotated and her feet hit the floor. She was still wearing the shirt from the night of the patrol, but her pants were in a heap by the bed, hacked to bits and stained with dirt, grass, and blood. Her blood. Apparently they had been cut off her. She needed a new favorite pair of pants. She would never admit it out loud, but whenever she wore that pair she felt like her ass looked fantastic. But her pants, and the appearance of her ass, were not exactly high priorities these days. Not that they ever really were. Evelyn's eyes traveled up and down her leg to survey the damage that had been inflicted the previous night. She sucked in a breath as her eyes fell on two angry looking wounds. Her leg had a crater in it about an inch in diameter and another gash on her inner thigh, almost surgical in appearance and sealed up with neat stitches. Funny, she didn't remember that happening, but the events of the previous night were still a little hazy. She put her hand to her throat. It was sore and bruised, but nothing irreversible. She was breathing and that was a good sign. These days that was really all that counted.

Damage assessed. It wasn't good, but it could have been worse. Much, much worse. She grabbed a small bit of gauze and her hand went to pull out the needle when the shower curtain on her left, the one with depicting a troop of cartoon monkeys swinging through trees, was violently ripped aside. The man that appeared marched up to the bedside and stared down at her in a condescending manner. He was wearing a crisp button-down shirt and pleated khaki pants, and the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose looked as if their primary purpose was for him to look down at people through them. He could have been handsome if it wasn't for the over-whelming aura of arrogance and self-importance that hung around him like the smell of cheap cologne on a high school freshman.

"Get back in the bed," he barked.

"Hello to you too Dr. Harris," Evelyn muttered with a roll of her eyes. To say that she did not care for Michael Harris was an understatement. He had joined the 7th Mass about one month prior, and remained awfully tight-lipped about his experiences since the invasion again. He seemed to exude a level of arrogance, self-absorption, and opportunism that made it completely impossible for her to trust him. It was actually her and Max who found him on a food scouting trip. He had holed up in a Walmart Supercenter a few miles away from the base. They had not hit it off well. In fact, he shot her when she rounded the corner of one of the aisles, thinking she was a skitter. Combat definitely was not his forte. Luckily he was a terrible shot and she had just been grazed. Apparently this little incident wounded his pride, so, after that, when he wasn't avoiding Evelyn he was looking down his nose at her through those obnoxious glasses of his. For some reason this was his twisted way of re-establishing his dignity, by branding her as inferior. Maybe she was over-reacting, but when Evelyn thought about him, the first term that came to mind was 'raging ass-hat'. He was probably perfectly pleasant if he encountered someone with a PhD or MD, but if your academic qualifications were not up to snuff, you weren't really worth his time. She was only a sophomore in college when the invasion hit (her parents had placed her in school and year early and she had skipped the third grade). Harris always seemed to assume that she was some remedial teen. It was as if his constitution could only support limited pool of respect, and therefore he had to be really stingy with it. He was in a post-apocalyptic environment typical of a Steven Spielberg movie and he stood there ensconced in a pristine white lab coat. In this world, nothing should be pristine. Everybody should be covered in dirt and sweat and blood, doing their damndest to survive. This man stood before her looking like a cast member from 'General Hospital' or some other equally terrible medical drama, his priorities seemed a bit off. Evelyn almost resented the fact that he was so good at his job. She couldn't fully commit to hating him while he was saving other people's lives.

"So, Doc, what's the diagnosis?" She affected a cheerful expression.

"You have a giant hole in your leg, I'd say the diagnosis is pretty obvious."

"Fine, then," she said with a hint of bitterness coloring her tone. "What's the prognosis?"

His eyebrow shot up at her knowledge of the terminology. She rolled her eyes. "Yes, doc," she thought to herself, "I am aware of the nuances of the English language."

"You didn't do your leg any favors with how long you walked on it wounded, though I suppose you didn't really have any other options. It looks worse than it actually is. There is considerable damage to the muscle tissue, but you can expect a full recovery."

Evelyn released the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Her shoulders sagged and her lips formed a relieved smile. Probably the only genuine smile she would offer the man standing in front of her. "Thanks, Doc."

"It was an interesting move, pouring the sugar onto the wound to promote the clotting. It probably saved your life."

Evelyn nodded. "I always carry a Ziploc filled with it on patrol. Just in case something happens."

He nodded and then looked at her curiously. "How did you know to do that anyway?"

"That hit-man movie with Mark Wahlberg," she lied easily with a smirk on her face. One of the first things she did after the invasion was find a Barnes and Noble and rip every survival book she could find from its shelves and read them cover to cover. In a world without any organized infrastructure, you had to prepare yourself for chaos. Of course she had also nicked a copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' and 'The Count of Monte Cristo'. It had become a bit of a tradition for her. Every time she stumbled across a bookstore or library, she would grab two books: one that may come in useful (i.e. one regarding mechanics, weapons, medicine, or survival), and one to keep her imagination from starving so much that it was forced to eat itself.

Harris directed his hands towards her right arm, slowly extracting the needle and pressing the small square of gauze against the point of entry with his thumb. "Sorry I had to use your right arm," he said wrapping the area tightly to prevent further bleeding. "There was so much scar tissue on your left it was impossible for me to find a vein," he said with a knowing tone.

Evelyn repressed a snort. The good doctor thought she was a heroin addict. Any needle stick she had experienced was definitely not recreational. She chose to ignore the dig because, well, screw him, and she cut to the chase, "So when can I be up and about again?"

"Three weeks."

That prompted an almost comedic double take. "THREE WEEKS. No. No, no, no, no, no. I've got things to do, places to go, people to save. I've been thinking about taking up snowboarding. You need legs for that."

"You also need snow for that, so you'll have to put those plans on hold. Five days in a wheelchair, the rest on crutches, physical therapy to maintain muscle tone throughout. No exceptions."

She lifted her pillow to her face and screamed into it in frustration. Ben didn't have that much time. If he was in that harnessing station, it was only a matter of days before it was too late. But knowing that Max would be on the raid would be enough. If anyone could get to Ben it was him. When it came to taking down skitters, that guy was invincible. Excepting his annoying habit of dislocating his shoulder.

"You have a visitor," Harris said, pulling back that monkey shower curtain to reveal Max standing there, his hands in his pockets. "I'll leave so you and your boy-toy can talk."

Both Evelyn and Max visibly cringed at the use of the term 'boy-toy'. It felt creepy and incestuous. They waited till Harris cleared out, both watching him leave. Max brought a hand up to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. He looked truly traumatized. "Ok," he announced, "I will never be referred to as boy-toy again."

"Agreed."

"We'll stick to 'bro'."

Evelyn shook her head emphatically. "There is no way I'm calling you that either. It makes you sound like a drunken frat guy." She studied the ceiling while considering her options. "I shall dub thee my 'man-friend'," she said, coming to a conclusion.

Max waived his hand dismissively, "Fine, whatever you say weirdo." He sat down on the ratty old office chair on the other side of the room and scooted forward until he reached the edge of the bed, setting his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his folded hands. "So. You gave us all a bit of a scare there. How are you feeling?"

"Like there's a hole in my leg and I have the world's worst hangover. Which seems unfair since you're supposed to have at least a little fun before you get hangover. Surprisingly, being stabbed in the thigh does not constitute 'a good time'," she said using air quotes.

"True, true." He paused a moment before resuming. "So Clayton debriefed me."

"That kinky bastard."

"Just shut up and listen for once," he snapped. Clearly agitated, he scrunched up his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. Evelyn closed her mouth and nodded for him to continue. "He nixed the raid on the harnessing station."

"He did WHAT!" If Clayton didn't back the raid, there was no recourse, no backup. Without backup there was no possible way she could help Ben.

"He said there just weren't enough fighters left. We've lost too many to allow for a fully functional unit. He didn't think it was worth the risk, going after kids who were already goners." Evelyn bristled. "His words, not mine," Max added hastily, his hands thrown up in the air to distance himself from the decision. Evelyn knew that the 7th Mass had experienced serious losses. She joined up with them after the retreat from Boston, so she didn't witness the carnage, but from what she understood the situation had been pretty dire. When she joined, there were 51 fighters, 52 when she was properly trained, and 63 civilians. According to Max, who had been stationed with them since the beginning, there used to be about 100 fighters and 200 civilians. On some level Clayton's decision made a certain sort of sense, but she couldn't wrap her mind around the idea of leaving that place operational. With 20 well-trained men performing surgical strikes at different points in the perimeter, a lot of damage could be inflicted. But the opinion of a seventeen-year-old girl didn't typically hold much water with the chain of command.

She felt sick. Max seemed to notice the signs and quickly grabbed a bucket, forcing it up to her face. Evelyn retched several times, but nothing came up. It was only then that she noticed the burning hunger in the pit of her stomach, like she hadn't eaten in a very long time. She connected the dots and looked up at Max, her eyes questioning. "How long have I been out?" Her voice was barely audible.

Max moved to sit down next to her on the bed, rubbing his hand up and down her back as if to comfort her. That definitely was not a good sign. "Lyn, you lost a lot of blood. You almost died."

"Don't deflect or try to give me the run-around." She removed his hand from where it had settled on her shoulder and threw it onto his lap almost violently. "You know me well enough to realize that that strategy won't work. How long. Have I. Been out?"

He sighed and rubbed the top of his head anxiously. "It's been three days."

"No it hasn't."

Max shook his head. "I'm sorry Lyn, but it has."

"Why the hell am I getting blood transfusions three days after the fact?"

Max furrowed his eyebrows. "You know I suck with the medical jargon. The doc said something about internal bleeding. Compadre's syndrome? He doped you up. Said the pain would throw you into shock."

"You mean Compartment Syndrome?" Shit, that was serious. And it explained that extra gash in her leg. Harris needed to relieve the pressure of the blood building up in her leg.

He nodded, "Yeah that's the one. Like I said you lost a lot of blood."

She stared at her hands for what felt like twenty minutes. "So Ben's gone then?" Her voice cracked.

"I'm so sorry Lyn, but he is."

She nodded slowly and stared absently into space, gingerly bringing her knees to her chest, careful not to rip the stitches, and wrapping her arms around her legs. She looked like a small child trying to reassure themself that the nightmares that woke them in their sleep were not real. But Evelyn couldn't shake off this nightmare. It was her reality. Ben was gone for good by now. They hadn't really spoken over the past few years, but seeing him gave rise to a tiny bubble of hope, hope that someday things could return to the way they were before the skitters. Now that Ben was gone, that bubble had deflated a bit.

Sobs wracked her body and she began to shake. Max wrapped his arms around her and tried to calm her down. She buried her face in his chest. He didn't seem to care that she was coating his shirt with snotty tears. "Don't forget about the other kids. You did save them." He whispered quietly into her ear. "You want to know their names?" She nodded against his chest and he continued, "Well there's Marjorie. She's six and already a hard-ass. Derek's a bit of a wimp, but he's got plenty of brains."

He released her and grabbed a cup of water, handing it to her. She realized just how dry her throat was. She drank it eagerly.

"Toby, he's twelve. He's got a bit of a crush on you so you better watch yourself around him. Then there's the Sams. What do you call the brother-sister twins again? Fraternal? Yeah, fraternal. Their full names are Samantha and Samuel. I guess there parents were kinda cruel. Anyway, those two are fourteen going on forty-five. They've got this weird Yoda-wisdom going on, but they're even shorter than Yoda." He chuckled to himself.

Listening to Max's rambling, Evelyn felt herself growing sleepy. She had been unconscious for three days. She should not be getting sleepy.

"And, last but not least, there's Amy. She just turned thirteen and she's a mini-you. It's uncanny. She annoys the hell out of me—"

Her eyelids began to droop. Realizing what was happening to her, anger mixed in with the grief she was feeling for Ben and for all those other children. The started punching Max in the shoulder repeatedly. "You DICK!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, her face still red and puffy from crying.

"Ow. OW. What the fuck is your problem? Stop hitting me!"

"You DOSED me." She threw her cup at him, the little bit of water left splashing on the floor.

He flashed his hugest shit-eating grin. "Couldn't have you ripping out your stitches."

She flopped back on the bed in defeat, surrendering to the drowsiness inflicted upon her by her so-called partner. "I hate you," she mumbled into the pillow, still sniffling.

His grin morphed into a soft smile. "No you don't." He pushed her red hair away from her face and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Night Marcy. You'll feel better in the morning."

"It IS morning, jackass," she retorted, barely noting that he had called her by his kid sister's name. He laughed softly and left the room.

She tried to fight the drugs, but she knew the effort would ultimately be futile. She just knew that she needed to get out of that room. Bad things happen in small rooms. She started to cry silently. She kept crying till she fell asleep.

**So in this chapter I tried to reconcile my version of the 7th Mass with the one in the show. My reasoning is that, after the regiments were all scattered, communications broke down for the most part, so the 2nd Mass never knew what exactly happened during all those months. Eventually the 7th will be disbanded and Evelyn will make her way to the 2nd. Like I said this is an EVENTUAL Hal/OC story. What is going on right now is happening in parallel to the plot of the TV show.**

**I haven't had a chance to rent Season 1 yet the re-watch it and re-acquaint myself with the characters, so I'm not sure how my Dr. Harris came across. I remember him being arrogant and generally being an opportunistic douche (albeit an intelligent opportunistic douche). If you give input I might tweak my version of the character in this chapter and with subsequent ones.**

**I get kind of specific with the medical stuff. Evelyn has a history with these issues, as you've probably gleaned, and this element of the story will unfold over time. Other than that, she is trying to accrue as much useful knowledge as possible so as to keep herself, and those around her, safe.**

**Please review. I'm new to this (i.e. never done creative writing before, I'm an ecology major) and love constructive criticism. That and reviews make me feel validated and make me smile.**

**Geeze, that was a long author's note. Thank you to those who read all the way through.**


	4. Suck It Up, Princess

**I know this is a lot of intro, but I feel like a lot of the time the characterization of the female OC is contingent upon the character of Hal. Like there's no main character in the work, but a main 'couple' instead**

**Disclaimer: I challenged Spielberg to a game of racquetball. If he lost I got full ownership of the show. I lost. I'm going to go cry now.**

Chapter 4 – Suck It Up, Princess

For the second time, Evelyn slowly regained consciousness, imprisoned by those plastic shower curtains. Her hair was divided and put into two braids. It made her feel like she was in the 5th grade again. When did that happen? Dr. Harris was there, checking her vitals.

"Nice of you to join us. I'll have you know that with your little emotional outburst yesterday you managed to rip out 12 of your 26 stitches. You need to be more careful."

"Whatever you say, doc," she mumbled in response. She lay back on the pillows and rubbed her eyes, actively trying to process all the information she had received while in her semi-comatose state. Ben was body-snatched. The harness station was still operational. She was relegated to the bench for three full weeks. It was necessary to reconcile herself to this situation. If she gave in to the potentially debilitating guilt and grief, she would become useless to the cause. Despair was not an option, hope formed the foundation of the resistance and had to be clung to. She put those thoughts, fears, and insecurities in a box and shoved it to the back of her mind, filing it under 'stuff to be repressed for the time being.' That particular filing cabinet had been getting really full lately. That was part of what made Max so invaluable to her. The light-hearted banter distracted from the other thoughts rattling around in her head. The ones that she didn't particularly like to dwell on. Joking in the face of tragedy frequently made others think of her as insensitive, but frankly she didn't give a damn. It was the way she coped. It didn't make her very popular with the locals though. Then again, she was fairly well acquainted with unpopularity, even before the invasion.

Evelyn looked down at the gauze wrapped around the crook of her elbow and a question occurred to her. "Whose blood is my circulatory system wearing?"

"Ah. You were really lucky there. It's pretty convenient to be a universal receiver in a war zone. You had a couple of volunteers. You're boy-toy of course, and some kid about your age. Mechanic, I think. Blond hair, blue eyes, smiles way too much?"

"You mean Teddy?" Teddy was one of those people who had an uncanny ability to remain cheerful no matter the circumstances. His personality wasn't that perky, chipper one that made people overly talkative or intrusive, he was simply pleasant. He was content, seemingly untouched by the chaos. It was like he was completely oblivious to the fact that the line between life and death was razor thin. Somehow he managed to make other people feel that way to, like he was a totem, a reminder of times gone by. Evelyn was convinced that he had played an instrumental role in keeping the 7th Mass together after Boston, not necessarily in terms of the chain of command, but in terms of keeping up morale.

"Teddy," Harris repeated, as if trying to see that the name tasted right in his mouth. "Teddy, Teddy. Yeah, that's the one." Harris raised an eyebrow archly and smirked. "He seemed quite invested in your recovery," he said staring down at the chart he was holding. There was a slight sing-song cadence in his voice, like he knew a secret that he wasn't supposed to and was reveling in it. Evelyn let out an exasperated sigh, cringing and shaking her head at Harris's innuendo. Teddy was heavily invested in every member of the 7th Mass. There was really no limit to how much that guy could care. And there was no reason he would be paying any extra attention to a cynical, sarcastic, bitter seventeen-year-old girl with major attitude problems. Teddy was one of the few people in the regiment, other than Max, of course, who she was semi-friends with. It was impossible not to like the guy, he was so sincere. But she didn't see him having any greater interest in her as remotely plausible. Right?

Evelyn banished those girly thoughts. Turning back to Harris she clapped her hands and rubbed them together eagerly. "So when am I getting out of here?"

"When we find you a functional wheelchair. Your sugar-daddy and that same Tommy kid left on a medical supplies run about an hour or so ago. You should be out of that bed and out of my hair soon enough."

"Soon enough meaning?"

Harris looked at his watch. "It's 08:00 hours right now. They should be back by nightfall. Should be about another eight or nine hours."

Great. "You got any reading material to pass the time?"

Harris tossed a thick book onto her lap before striding out of the medical area. It landed right on the arrow wound. "OW! So much for the Hippocratic Oath!" she shouted after him.

"Suck it up, princess!" he retorted.

Evelyn narrowed her eyes and gave his back the best death-ray glare she could muster, willing that damn lab coat to spontaneously combust. Max was the only one allowed to call her 'princess'. She absolutely detested the nickname, which, of course, was why Max had settled on it. It was actually more a propos than she cared to admit. While her wardrobe currently consisted of ratty jeans, cargo pants, flannel shirts, dirty tank tops and combat boots, that had not always been the case. Not too long ago, if you opened up her closet you would find an unreasonable amount of sundresses, blazers, ballet flats, and cardigans, a veritable cornucopia of pastel and tweed. It was like all of the Stepford wives decided to get together and vomit all over that closet. Julia, her mother, was a shameless social climber. She fancied herself the American Grace Kelley. Pregnancy became fashionable, so nine months later Evelyn was born. A living, breathing accessory. The bouncing baby girl was an 'in' for play dates with the kids of other fashionable moms. From the ages of six months to sixteen years, she had acted as Julia's personal dress-up doll. Her mom dictated her recreational activities as well. Piano, ballet, horseback-riding, basically anything that could be considered a leisure activity of British nobility, Evelyn was coerced into it. For most of her life all she really wanted was a soccer ball and a badass leather jacket. But neither of those would make a good impression if the queen of England decided to drop by for tea, crumpets, and cucumber sandwiches, so she never got them.

She looked at the cover of the book she had just been assaulted with: 'Anatomy and Physiology for Emergency Care'. Well that could come in handy. She cracked it open and flipped to the chapter about field dressings. As far as she knew, none of the regiments of the Massachusetts had a field medic. In her opinion, that was a drastic oversight.

Lunch came and went. Every once in a while Harris would wander in and out, never actually speaking to her but other than that she didn't really have any visitors. Maybe she should tone down the sarcasm a bit, drink the Kool-Aid, and become a sociable and upstanding member of the community.

Nah. Evelyn could never pull that off. She was far too maladjusted.

In that bed, Evelyn felt like a helpless, incontinent toddler. A few hours later, she was still committing all of this new medical knowledge to memory. It was beginning to get dark out. Where the hell were Max and Teddy? She needed out of that bed. It did not bring back good memories. She was reading about the applications of different stitching techniques when she heard some frantic whispering from the other side of the curtain. The voices were unfamiliar. It sounded like two girls, both young, but one much younger than the other. "You go in first," one said.

"You're the one who wanted to come in the first place. Don't be such a baby," the other replied.

"I'm only six! Compared to you I am a baby!"

"Alright, I'm leaving now."

"NO!"

Sounds of a scuffle emanated from behind the shower curtain. One of the two crashed through the shower curtains. She stumbled forward and grabbed the edge of the bed in an effort to keep herself from toppling over, evidently having been shoved through. She gave an awkward smile and waved half-heartedly. "Um, hi?" Someone might as well have written 'uncomfortable' across her forehead in permanent Sharpie. She was definitely older than six. Thirteen, maybe? Evelyn chuckled to herself. That must be one ballsy six-year-old.

The girl stood before her in a ratty blue dress, frayed at the edges from too many washes and ripped in some places, probably the result of running for her life through a dense forest. She looked vaguely familiar. Her blonde hair was parted down the middle and pulled into two braids. Her face took on an expression of wide-eyed innocence that Evelyn didn't trust for a second. "Well, my name is Amy."

"Hi, Amy," Evelyn stated, giving a one-handed wave. Oh wait, it was probably inappropriate to make Alcoholics Anonymous references with a preteen. To her surprise, the girl snorted with laughter. They might get along. Though her immediate understanding did raise some questions as to what the girl's family life had bee like.

The girl balled her hands into fists and forced themselves into the little pockets of her dress which had been embroidered with daisies. She was clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. "Soooooooooooooo. The munchkin out there seems to think that we should be thanking you for saving our lives and all." Right, Amy. This was the alleged 'mini-Lyn' as Max had dubbed her.

Evelyn smirked. "Don't hurt yourself," she said, her voice thick with her patented light-hearted sarcasm.

The girl folded her arms and took a step backwards and folded her arms, immediately put on the defensive. "What do you want, a freaking Hallmark card? I'll just nip out to Walgreen's. Would you prefer one of the 'thank you' or 'get well soon' variety because I don't think they had a chance to copyright any 'I'm so grateful you saved me from the alien menace' cards before the factories were leveled. How's about a simple 'you're welcome'?"

The two glared at each other, a very similar, hostile expression frozen on each of their faces. Then Amy's lip twitched slightly. Milliseconds later they had both broken down into sobs of laughter. At the tender age of thirteen that girl had already developed the perfect mixture of wit and belligerence. Maybe Max was right. She had found her mini-me.

"Evelyn," she stated simply, holding out her hand for the girl to take. "And you're welcome."

Amy took her hand and let out a long breath. Her shoulders sagged a bit. She started chomping on the end of one of her braids. "Sorry for the outburst. I've never had to thank someone for preventing my untimely doom before. It's a bit nerve-wracking."

Evelyn flashed her a genuine smile, trying to put the girl at ease. "Not a problem. I have both given and gotten much worse than that." She looked behind Amy at the tiny shadow that was cast against the curtain. "So what's the deal with that miniature hellion who physically assaulted you earlier?"

Amy rolled her eyes, but there was no frustration in them, only humor. "That's just Marge. She's the worst."

It was like a grenade went off. The kid exploded through the curtain, her face barely visible through a mess of blonde curls running straight into the other girl's back and bouncing backwards a few feet. "Shut UP, Amy! You're the worst! And my name isn't Marge!" Amy held her fist to her mouth, coughing violently to cover her fairly obvious giggle fit. When the girl, whose name was apparently Marjorie, made eye contact with Evelyn she froze and snapped her mouth shut. Amy pulled the kid in front of her and placed her hands on Marjorie's shoulders protectively.

"So Marjorie had something she wanted to give you," Amy said, gesturing at some papers Marjorie was clutching. But Marjorie stood so still it seemed like she grew roots. Amy gently nudged her from behind. Nothing. The nudge transformed into a shove and the little girl stumbled forward the edge of the bed. The girl glanced back and forth between Evelyn the papers in her hand until she finally threw them on the bed and scurried back to Amy, grabbing her hand and standing behind her. Outwardly the girls looked nothing alike, other than the fact that they were both blonde. But standing there hand-in-hand like that, the two of them looked like sisters. That was one thing about the skitter-verse. Family and genetics didn't go hand in hand anymore.

Evelyn unfolded the papers that had landed in her lap. To say what she saw surprised her would be an understatement. It was a crude drawing made in crayon. The first thing that struck her was that the sky had been done in green while the trees were blue. Then she allowed herself to take n all the other details. At the center of the drawing it showed a stick figure with bright red hair, holding a bow and arrow. Was that supposed to be her? It was standing on top what looked like a giant mosquito. Holy crap. That little girl had drawn a picture of her taking down a skitter. Her eyes kept running over the picture. She looked up at Marjorie who was peeking out from behind the older girl. Making eye contact, she said with complete sincerity, "This is the most awesome thing I have seen in my entire life. Troubling, maybe, but mostly awesome." The little terrified face broke into an enormous smile and she gave a quiet "thank you," the same one Evelyn had heard right after she and Max had saved those kids.

At that point they heard the rumble of the Chevy truck pulling up outside. Marjorie squealed at the top of her lungs. "Max is back!" She grabbed at Amy's hand and yanked her out of the medical area so violently that they tore down one of the surrounding curtains, dragging it with them until Amy managed to extricate them both from its clutches. "Bye, I guess!" Amy shouted over her shoulder, still being yanked forward by that tiny hand that had a hold on her wrist.

Through the recently formed 'hole' in her room, she saw Marjorie hurtling towards Max and Teddy who were heading in her direction, pushing a wheel chair. Thank God, she could finally get out of this bed. When Marjorie finally collided with Max, he easily lifted her up off the floor and twirled her around while she giggled gleefully, finally settling her on his shoulders and continuing on his way towards Evelyn. Apparently there had been some bonding while she was unconscious. Evelyn's face broke out into a huge grin. There had been a huge hole in Max's life since Charlie was taken and it looked like he found something to help fill it. Good for him.

Teddy sped up his pace a bit, quickly pushing the wheelchair. Every once in a while he would glance nervously back at Max. Evelyn furrowed her eyebrows. Max kept his eyes on Teddy. He was actually slowing down as well, pointedly stopping and talking to people as he made his way across the warehouse floor. He then made eye contact with her and his face adopted an expression of smug satisfaction. What was that about?

A few meters before he reached her, Teddy sat in the chair and wheeled himself the rest of the way to her bedside. He perched his elbows on the bed next to her so that his arm lightly grazed hers. His head rested on his clasped hands and was cocked to the side, a small smile on his lips. "Nice to see you're awake. I was beginning to think you'd gone and gotten all lazy on us."

"What can I say," Evelyn responded, opening her arms and gesturing to her surroundings, "I was made for a life of luxury. Breakfast in bed, lunch in bed, dinner in bed. I'm totally living the dream. All I'm missing is a foot massage. Well, that and running water."

Teddy then wheeled to the foot of the bed. "I don't think I can help with the 'running water' bit, but I have been told I give a pretty mean foot massage."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Who told you that?"

Teddy opened his mouth to respond, but a voice behind him beat him to it. "His momma." Max had snuck up on the two of them. Marjorie was off in the distance with Amy, sitting on the ground and coloring frantically. Evelyn noticed that the red crayon was being used liberally. She shuddered to think what kind of scene was being depicted. She pushed thoughts of damaged little girls out of her mind and turned back to Max and Teddy to continue the banter.

"Max, what have I told you about the 'yo mamma' brand of humor. It's tired, lazy, and, quite frankly, beneath you."

Teddy nodded solemnly during her rant. "And sexist," he added dramatically, slamming a fist to his knee.

"Yes. Thank you, Theodore. It's also sexist."

"But above all…" Teddy stated raising his hand to emphasize his point, staring down the other two "….it's accurate." His arm flopped back down to his lap. "I give mom-approved foot massages."

Max remained in the background of the exchange, arms folded with a knowing expression on his face and Teddy was rolling back and forth in the chair, unable to sit still. "Well. As lovely as that super-awkward offer was," she said, pushing herself up further off the bed, "I think that the first thing I'm going to do is get hell out of this plush, rectangular prison."

"But this chair is so comfy."

"Don't make me fight you, Theodore. I'll take you down. Now come and help me out."

Teddy rolled up next to her and hopped out of the chair. She peeled off the sheets revealing that she was dressed in a black tank top and black exercise shorts, leaving the angry red gashes on her thigh visible to the general public. She heard an intake of breath right next to her. "You checking me out, Teddy?"

"Wh-what. No! Of course not. Why would I? Well it's fairly obvious why I _would_, but, you know, I wouldn't. You know, respect and all that. What I mean to say is—"

"Teddy, relax. I'm just messing with you." He was looking at the floor rubbing the back of his neck in agitation, much in the same way that Hal used to when they were kids. For such a good-looking guy, he had managed to maintain a shockingly high level of awkwardness. "It's not as bad as it looks," Evelyn said, gesturing at the leg as she swung her feet over the side of the bed. "Help me up?" She carefully swung her feet over the side of the bed.

Teddy approached her and grasped her by her upper arms while her hands grasped his biceps, slowly guiding her as she hobbled towards the chair. He carefully sat her down his hands lingering a bit longer than necessary. He brushed one of her braids over her shoulder. "Nice hair," he said with a sly smile on his face.

Evelyn let out an awkward laugh and started pulling at the woven clumps of hair. "Yeah, I must look like the school photo for a cast member of the Brady bunch. I don't know how it got that way."

"Well I think a certain curly-haired Tasmanian devil might have had a little to do with it," Teddy responded with a smirk. "I think it's cute though. Makes you look like Pippi Longstocking."

What was happening here? Was Teddy flirting with her? Evelyn was never very good with social cues, one of the drawbacks of being ostracized for the majority of her adolescent life. She came to the conclusion that her imagination was a bit on overdrive given Harris's comments earlier that day.

"If I could, I would fall to my knees right now, shouting 'freedom' at the top of my lungs," she said, using her hands to physically lift her legs so that her feet were placed on the designated footrest. "I suppose I should thank you both, for giving me your lifeblood and all that."

Teddy stuck his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight from foot to foot. He never was comfortable with receiving gratitude from others, which was odd seeing as he earned it with such a high frequency. "It was nothing. You would have done the same." Max nodded in agreement from his corner. He was being awfully quiet.

"I most certainly would not." They both looked up at her in shock. Teddy opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking like a goldfish some sadistic kid removed from its fishbowl. Evelyn snorted at their expressions. "I'm AB+ guys. If I gave either of you a transfusion you would probably die. I almost don't want to mess with you anymore. There's no real challenge in it."

Max pushed off the wall he was leaning against. "Well on that note, I'm taking you to Clayton."

"What? Why?" Evelyn did not like Terry Clayton. He was the only person she had ever met who so accurately embodied the word 'skeevy'. She just didn't trust the guy. He seemed like the kind of guy who would sell out his Nana for a bag of pretzels.

"What do you mean, why? You were almost killed in combat. You still need to be debriefed."

Evelyn huffed. "But I don't wanna."

Max grabbed the handles on the back of the wheelchair and pulled her backwards away from Teddy. A flash of disappointment appeared in his eyes. Evelyn didn't have time to contemplate what this indicated before she was perfunctorily spun around and pushed out of the medical center and towards the office where command was stationed, rolling over the fallen shower curtain in the process. "Tough tater tots. Suck it up, princess."

"See you later, Teddy!" she shouted over her shoulder.

"Looking forward to it!" he shouted back.

**Love it? Hate it?**

**I would really like to know how you guys like my new OCs Teddy, Amy, and Marjorie. I'm trying to make all the secondary characters three dimensional and realistic. Did I do OK? I swear I'm not normally this needy.**


	5. The Same Kind of Broken

**Disclaimer: I can't grow a beard and don't need corrective lenses, so I can't really pass myself off as Spielberg. Therefore, I still do not own 'Falling Skies'. I will, however, take responsibility for the snarky commentary of Evelyn, Max, Teddy, Amy, and Marjorie.**

Chapter 5 – The Same Kind of Broken

Having full force of the attention of Commander Terry Clayton was never a comfortable experience. His eyes were cold and distant, as if he was looking at a slime mold through the eyepiece of a microscope. Evelyn couldn't help but feel that he was judging every movement that she made, whether she was wiping at her nose, clearing her throat, or hitting the bulls-eye of a target with her sidearm. He could always find fault. She had asked Max advice on how to deal with the man. His solution: be yourself. Evelyn did not see this meeting going well.

Clayton's aloof expression and ramrod-straight posture seemed more appropriate behind the desk of the oval office than behind a peeling wood laminate table in a glorified cubicle that smelled faintly of rust and rotted fish. He always seemed to treat those hot included within his immediate circle of trust with an excessive degree of formality, like he was distancing himself from them. This made Evelyn uneasy, it always seemed as if he was trying to conceal something from her, whether or not that was the case. She couldn't pretend to know the man well, he rarely ever spoke to her outside of group meetings. Maybe she was misjudging him. After all, she did not at all expect to see an ironic 'Hang In There' poster above his left shoulder. He must have some semblance of a sense of humor.

Evelyn had wheeled herself into his office about two minutes prior and not a word had been spoken between the two. Clayton stared her down, holding his fist to his mouth and drumming his fingers on the table at intervals so regular you could set a clock by it. But she would not break under his scrutiny. She would not be the first to speak.

After a few more minutes passed, he finally gave in to her stubbornness. A gravelly, authoritative voice shattered the silence, a voice that had an element of brutality hidden in its undertones. "I hear that you had an altercation with the skitters a few nights ago."

Evelyn snorted. "You could say that, yeah," she said, gesturing to her neck and legs. "You should see the other guy. Or guys, more accurately speaking."

Clayton sighed and slapped a yellow legal pad on the table. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black pen, clicking it and preparing to write. "So I've heard the account of your partner, Max Huertas, but it seems that you were the one who could provide us with the most tactical information."

"Yes, sir. Some of the elements of that night are a little fuzzy after having been doped up with all that morphine, but most of the night is pretty clear." Evelyn launched into a highly detailed account of the harnessing station and its defenses, finishing with the rescue of those kids. Clayton's face remained impassive and he nodded absently while scribbling on a sheet of paper. When Evelyn concluded her story, he removed his glasses, ripped the few pages he had written on out of the legal pad and turned around to the filing cabinet to store them. "Wait! There's one more thing. I think the skitters might have a physiological weakness. When I stabbed it through its chin, or whatever you call it, the arrow penetrated the brain case really easily. They may not have palatal bones, the bones at the roof of their mouth. It may come in handy is you're forced into close combat."

"That certainly is helpful information," Clayton said, making one last note on the page. He faced her and folded his hands on the table. "Now I'd like to talk to you about your misconduct."

Evelyn blinked and her jaw dropped slightly open in shock. "My misconduct, sir?"

"Yes, your misconduct. You engaged the enemy without seeking approval from your superior officers. Your and Max's orders were simply to survey and establish an extended perimeter, not to take on a platoon of skitters with pointy sticks and pea shooters."

Evelyn didn't know which conversation-station this word-train was heading towards, but she was certain she would not like it. She felt her insides contort with disgust for this man. She could sense the direction this conversation was heading and she did not like it. "They were bringing children to be harnessed, sir. Max and I chose to take the initiative. It seemed to be worth it at the time." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Still does," she said thinking of Marjorie and Amy and the love they seemed to already have for each other, even though they couldn't have known each other for more than two weeks.

"Children are not a tactical advantage Ms. Walsh, and they are a drain on resources. We can't effectively fight the enemy if our soldiers can't eat. In addition, as you well know, the number of fighters in this regiment is dwindling. We can't afford to lose any more fighters if the 7th Mass is going to survive, and you happen to be one of the best. Your death is not an option at this juncture. It's bad enough that you've taken yourself out of the running for the next few weeks."

Her mind was racing, unable to truly comprehend the words coming out of his mouth. She shoved her personal disgust away from the forefront of her mind. In her experience, people were not forthcoming with information when you were actively hostile. She arranged her features into an indifferent expression so that she could ask the question that was truly plaguing her. "What about the harnessing station?"

Clayton shook his head in what would appear to the layperson as an amalgam of grief, disappointment, and resignation, but Evelyn was more familiar with these emotions than your average individual, even during an alien invasion. To her this display seemed staged, and the words coming out of Clayton's mouth seemed rehearsed. "With our manpower and supplies, there is no possible way that we could do anything of substance. We don't have enough men, enough supplies, enough anything really. We have no option but to leave it alone, let it remain operational. Those kids are dead already anyway." In his office chair, he turned his back to her, moving to file her statement from earlier in the conversation.

Evelyn could not believe what she was hearing right now. What kind of man was this? All of her suspicions, which had seemed unfounded before she had come into this meeting, now stood on sturdier ground. The cool demeanor she had tried so hard to maintain cracked. It would have probably been better for her situation in the 7th Mass if she managed to keep her mouth shut, but Evelyn was never known for her prudence. "Sir, all due respect or deference or whatever, but that is complete horse shit."

Clayton's back stiffened. He slowly turned back around to face the girl at his desk, his eyes dark. "Excuse me, private?" he questioned with an undercurrent of danger in his voice. But Evelyn refused to be intimidated by this man.

"I did inventory for the 7th Mass last week. Well, I guess at this point it's been a week and a half," she said, referring to her time dabbling in unconsciousness. "We had at least 23 viable RPGs* which could be modified to increase their destructive force. With the proper soldier with the proper aim, the 6-7 mechs at that prison could easily be taken out. The skitters could be taken out by snipers. Yes, that plan is risky and might not have the best chance of succeeding, but it is an option you don't even seem to be considering. Ask for volunteers! And even if infiltration is impossible, we could just blow the entire complex. It would do nothing to save those inside, but by your philosophy they're gone anyway. We have all the materials necessary for multiple IEDs* that would be easy enough to plant. The least you could do is prevent other kids from meeting a similar fate."

Clayton looked at her with an expression that spelled contempt. Funny, not twenty minutes ago the guy had described her as one of his best fighters. When he responded, his voice was cold and calculated. "This is not a democracy Ms. Walsh. Do not presume to debate strategy with me. I have commanded this unit from the beginning. You're just some young piece of trash drifter we picked up by the roadside. If the regiment wasn't in such a bad way, I would discharge you for your insubordination, but we're going to need someone to carry a gun when the time comes. I'll just chalk your outburst up to brain damage, confusion from the drugs, and lady-times. Once the doc gives you the OK, you're on latrine duty for two months."

"Sir, yes, sir," she spouted with as much venom as she could muster. She gave him a sarcastic salute and wheeled herself out of the office, across the warehouse floor, through the salvage yard, and across the uneven ground of the forest floor until she reached the spot she was looking for, her self-designated 'thinking spot'. Her arms burned as she forced her way uphill. Wheelchairs were not exactly convenient for strolls through the forest, but she needed to clear her head, and that grody warehouse was not exactly conducive to introspection. She leaned down and locked the wheels in place so she wouldn't roll backwards down the hill. Evelyn inhaled deeply, savoring the first fresh air she had tasted in days.

Clayton had her in his cross-hairs now. He was planning something big. It might not go down in the immediate future, but there was a plan looming on the horizon and she was not privy to it. Evelyn didn't know what was going on, but she could now hear the tic-tic-tic of the metaphorical egg timer that predicted the demise of the 7th Mass. She had been reckless and stupid, she had tipped her hand. Clayton knew she was suspicious of him and would act accordingly. She could now count herself frozen out of all the interior dealings of the 7th Mass. Evelyn was never really part of the decision making process, but from here on out it would be radio silence. She would have to watch her back from now on, guard herself against not only the skitters, but Clayton as well.

Evelyn let our a long sigh and looked at her surroundings. Her 'thinking spot' looked as if it had been torn from the pages of Emerson and Thorough. As long as she kept her back turned to that salvage yard, there was no tetanus factory, no 7th Mass, no invasion. There was only the wind through the trees and the broken reflection of the moon and stars on the waves of the lake below. But that illusion lasted only as long as the eyes were open. It was when she shut her eyes and tried to tune in to the other elements of nature that Evelyn truly noticed the changes inflicted by the alien invasion. There was nowhere you could go without detecting at least the faint, acrid smell of burning plastics and metals. Not even the most isolated pockets of nature were really clean anymore. She opened her ears. She could hear the wind and the lapping of the waves on the shore, but no crickets, no frogs, no birds. Nothing that could definitively be called 'living. What she did here was footsteps. One foot dragged its heel on the ground while the other made direct contact. "Hey Max," she said with her eyes still closed.

"One of these days you're going to have to tell me how you do that," he said, sitting on the ground next to her chair. "It's a trade secret," she responded in kind, still refusing to open her eyes, "You'll never know." They sat in a comfortable silence. Evelyn looked up at the stars. They were absolutely beautiful, but after the events of the past year she would never be able to look at them the same way again. There was no innocence in the stars anymore, no childlike wonder. Their beauty had been rendered cruel and threatening. Before the invasion, with all the city lights and smog, it had been virtually impossible to see the stars. It was only after extra-terrestrials decimated the planet that you could see them shining in the night sky. It was a cruel sort of irony.

Evelyn ran her hands through her loose hair and pulled it into a tight bun. She bit her lip and fiddled with the strands that had fallen loose. "What did you come here to think about, Lyn?" Max asked, looking at her with questioning eyes. He knew the significance of this place.

Evelyn sighed, cracked her neck, and stretched her arms above her head, her fingers grazing the cool leaves of a low-reaching branch. "Did you know that the Chinese word for 'crisis' is composed of the individual characters meaning 'danger' and 'opportunity'?" Max shook his head no. "It seems quite appropriate given our current circumstances. I mean, danger's a given, we're obviously all dancing on the edge of the knife pretty much 24/7, but opportunity is the bit that gets to me. All this chaos has given us the chance to become something different, something more than you would have been otherwise. You're a marine. You getting to kick some skitter ass is a direct line from your pre-invasion day job. But me? If it wasn't for this invasion I would probably be sitting in a country club being force-fed cucumber finger sandwiches and listening to ladies in comically large hats talking about how Sarah Palin had 'the right idea'." Max looked at her like she was verifiably insane. She still hadn't shared the details of her past life with him, and if you use the words 'cucumber sandwiches' and 'Sarah Palin' in the same monologue, anyone could be expected to flee for their life. But Max stayed put, neither pressing her for more information nor judging her based on what she said, simply allowing her to continue in her monologue. "In some sick, twisted way I feel grateful for what happened. I can contribute to the resistance. Before the only thing I could contribute to was the economy by buying a new pair of shoes to satisfy my mother."

Evelyn brought her hand to her forehead and rubbed it as if to ward off a headache. "The problem is that opportunity begets choice, and choice begets opportunism. Not everybody's intentions are noble. You know, a week before I found the 7th Mass, I saw one guy shoot another. And for what? A wallet. There was a troop of mechs not 8 blocks away and he mugged the guy for money that didn't even have any value anymore. I guess that's why the military is so crucial, the hierarchy limits the degree of choice. But what happens when command itself becomes opportunistic?" Evelyn left it at that, not sure if her words effectively conveyed her meaning. If she had to judge by Max's expression, however, she would say that she was successful. There was a consensus. Clayton was suspect.

But their relationship was not on to let emotional moments go on for too long. It was as if they both were allergic to angst. Maybe it was because there was enough crap in their lives 'before' that they didn't want to open the floodgates and let the sewage of the days gone by spill forth. Which was why Evelyn wasn't surprised when Max smirked and said, "Clayton gave you on latrine duty, didn't he?" Her obvious insubordination could be detrimental to both of them, so deflection was definitely a tactical skill in this scenario.

"How did you know?" Evelyn asked, smiling not at Max, but at the landscape in front of her.

"You always get super-broody and philosophical when someone pisses you off. Personally, I think it's your way of compensating and convincing yourself that you're smarter than the guy insulting you."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really. Also, I was eavesdropping.'

Evelyn's face fell a bit. "Then you know it wasn't just about latrine duty."

"It most certainly was not."

"Telling me to be myself was stupid advice."

"It most certainly was"

"Myself is an idiot."

"She most certainly is."

"Hey!" Evelyn punched the arm of the idiot sitting next to her. The two fell into silence. There was a mutual understanding that this was not the time to express their worries about Clayton. The whole situation was terribly dramatic, and Evelyn was in the mood for immature banter, not military/political strategy. Max was just the guy to distract from those troubles, but the subject he adopted was, in Evelyn's eyes, just as bad if not worse than the previous one.

"Soooooooo," he drew out with a bored-sounding voice, but that boredom had a bit of a slyness to it. "Teddy's nice."

Evelyn cringed. This was the second allusion to Teddy-feelings in the same day. She still didn't quite see what they were seeing, but since Dr. Harris's comments earlier that day she had been hyper-sensitive to all of Teddy's actions.

"Yeah, he's nice. What about it?"

"Don't play coy, Lyn. That boy's got it bad for you. He was at your bedside every second possible while you were out. Hell, he was there almost more often than I was."

Evelyn just couldn't wrap her mind around that concept. Boys never really were her strong suit. She was only seventeen and, in her opinion, her 'awkward teen years' were still raging with full force. Then again establishing and maintaining social relationships in general did not fit well within her wheelhouse. She liked Teddy, she really did, but she was terrified of what might happen if she even tried to move beyond that casual level of intimacy. Friendship was difficult enough for her to process.

Evelyn placed her elbows on her knees and dug her fingers into her hair, pulling it out of the bun so it poked every which-way and made funny animal shapes. "I don't believe that the pursuit of any form of romantic relationship would be amenable to the lifestyle we are living at this juncture." It sounded rehearsed, even to her, and maybe it was. Evelyn did have a habit of subconsciously rationalizing herself out of human interactions. One would think that would change with so few people left in the world, but it hadn't.

Max scoffed, "Listen to yourself, Lyn. 'Amenanble'? 'At this juncture'? It's like you're seventeen going on the 1700s. Throw in a WTF or LOL every once in a while, or pretty soon boy scouts will be offering to help you across the street so they can get merit badges."

Evelyn felt a weak smile form on her lips in spite of herself. "Are you saying that I'm not hip with the lingo of today's urban youth?"

"I'm saying that I once heard you use the word 'behoove' in a casual Just stop talking, Lyn. Your voice is what menopause would sound like." He picked up some rocks lying next to him on the ground and tossing them down the hill, listening to them bounce as they made their way down the hillside before them. "So why are you so opposed to Teddy?"

"I'm not opposed to him in the least. He's smart, funny, sweet, and generally a really great guy. I just don't think he feels about me that particular way."

Max scoffed. "Why wouldn't he? You're funny, smart, you kick major skitter ass and you're hot. You don't seem to realize this about yourself. There's nothing bad on that list."

Evelyn flushed at the flattering words, especially the characterization of 'hot', which was not a descriptor she would ever add to the list. "But you left a bunch of things off that list, Max. How about belligerent, rude, self-absorbed? I know myself, Max. I don't need you to tell me who I am. I already know. And that person doesn't play well with others."

Max shifted so that he was sitting in front of her, looking up at her from where he sat on the ground. "Come on, Lyn. Don't be so obtuse."

Evelyn raised her eyebrow at his choice of vocabulary. "Obtuse?"

Max rolled his eyes with such enthusiasm that she almost saw his irises disappear under his eyelids. "Yes, Lyn. Obtuse. You don't have a monopoly on fancy, educated words." Evelyn just gave him a knowing look. "Fine, I found some word of the day toilet paper on the last raid. I've been using it in more ways than one."

"What was today's word?"

"Circuitous, which would probably be a good descriptor for this conversation. But my expanding vocabulary isn't what I'm here to talk about." He paused, appearing to steel himself against Evelyn's reaction to what he had to say. "You need to stop isolating yourself from the-well from everyone. Especially the kids your age. Teddy, just as a 'for instance'."

"Look, Max, I appreciate what your trying to do but— "

"No, you look. You're only real friend is a washed-up ex-marine with a mild case of PTSD and a healthy disrespect for authority figures."

"You're not washed-up, Max-"

But Max cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Whatever. Once again that's not the point. This isn't about me. You've got a lot of options open to you. So what's the problem? What are you waiting for?"

"You KNOW what the problem is, Max. I told you what the problem is," she said quietly. Her hand subconsciously went to the back of her neck, rubbing her fingers against the thick, knotted scar tissue that ran down the back of her skull, protruding about two inches past the hair at the base of her neck. Before the invasion, Evelyn always wore her hair down to cover the scar, but afterwards vanity didn't seem high on the priority list. She started pulling her hair up in ponytails and buns, revealing the discolored line of skin. Whenever anyone asked her what had happened, she would simply reply that she cut herself shaving. Max was the only one who understood what the scar really signified, and Teddy was the only one who hadn't asked her about it yet.

"You can't keep using that scar as an excuse, Lyn."

"It's not just that! Look around you, Max," she said, gesturing to the scene around her. "We're all living on borrowed time. What's the point?"

Max looked at his feet and shook his head in frustration. "You don't get it. After everything you've been through, sometimes it's easy for me to forget that at some level you're still a naïve seventeen-year-old. The fact that we could die at any moment makes connection, real human connection, that much more important."

Evelyn let out a deep sigh. While she wished she could heed Max's advice, it just didn't seem right to her. And so she gave another speech. "Death is like currency in this place, Max. You open up, you invest in someone, and then God or the Flying Spaghetti monster or whatever forecloses on that investment, and then where are you? You've opened yourself up to pain and a little bit of you is ripped away."

Max opened his mouth to speak, but Evelyn wasn't done. "Don't pretend you're any different, Max. There's that woman, the blonde. Nina I think? I've seen the two of you talking every once in a while, and when you do you have the same expression on your face as you do when you think about 'before'. And she's clearly interested in you as well. So what gives. Maximilian? What are you waiting for?"

Max closed his mouth, which had remained open through her little speech. He cracked his knuckles and stared at the glittering reflection of the moon on the water. "So what about us?" he asked in a quiet voice, gesturing between them. "Why did we invest in each other?"

Evelyn looked at him, furrowing her eyebrows and contemplated the question. A small, sad smile graced her features. "Well Max", she reached out to grasp his hand, "I guess we just have enough in common, we're damaged enough to understand each other. I guess we're the same kind of broken."

They both stared out at the water. About twenty silent minutes later, Max got up without a word and walked back to the warehouse. A few minutes later she heard steps approaching from behind, a gait that didn't belong to Max. She continued to stare into the distance as whoever approached sat down next to her.

"Hey."

Evelyn turned her head to look at the person next to her. "Hey, Teddy."

That crafty jackrabbit. She was going to start calling him Yenta. Max would hate that. The thought of his eminent chagrin caused the corners of her lips to quirk upwards a bit.

**So that's chapter 5. Kinda long. I'm trying to introduce the idea of Clayton's betrayal and demonstrate how damaged Evelyn is. Not much Teddy in the chapter, but there will be more in the next one.**

**Thanks to all those who have reviewed, favorited, and followed my story with a special thanks to LMScatterbrain and LDMLvr1 for sticking with me through this endeavor.**

**Expect some more smart!Evelyn, sarcastic!Evelyn, and badass!Evelyn in the next few chapters. There will also be some adorable!Teddy and snarky!Max.**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**


	6. Florence Nightingale Syndrome or the God

**Hey, dear readers! Sorry about the delay. I post as soon as I've finished writing something, but night before last I went to see 'Dark Knight Rises' and last night there was a bit of a family crisis. **

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**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Falling Skies'.  
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Chapter 6 – Florence Nightingale Syndrome or the God Complex?

Evelyn couldn't go on patrol, and she was getting frustrated. Apparently crutches are considered a liability when you might have to run for your life at any moment, an assertion that Evelyn, from time to time, felt like disputing. Restlessness and logic make adversarial bedfellows. What's more, she had to keep a low profile and avoid the scrutiny of command. She could sense that something potentially nefarious was going on, but she let Clayton suspect her suspicions.

She might not be able to fight, but she'd be damned before she would just sit around like some bored housewife, and over her weeks as an invalid, she kept herself busy. Somehow, she found herself spending a lot of time with Dr. Harris. At first their prolonged degree of association was exclusively due to the mandated physical therapy, but their dynamic changed from that of doctor-patient/ to that of doctor-patient/ /teacher-apprentice. Evelyn was surprised that she had, over this period, been able to downgrade him from 'asshole status' to 'tool status,' but he improved with time, albeit only slightly. He had caught her nicking his medical books and once walked into the medical bay to find her holed up in a corner practicing suture techniques on a small steak she stole, or, as she preferred to say, 'requisitioned' from the kitchen. At that point, seeing that she probably wasn't going to leave him alone, he began to train her outright, dealing with the ailments that were most likely to occur. They began with the more simple practices such as suturing, setting bones, taping up broken ribs and the like, then moving on to the treatment of the more complex, but still commonly occurring injuries, like amputations, tracheotomies, or lung re-inflation (all theoretical, of course). The patented level of arrogance never really changed, but at least through all of his berating Harris seemed to recognize she was a capable and attentive student. At least he did most of the time. "What the hell are you doing? Do you want the ribs to move independently? Do you think the human body just wasn't made with enough joints in it? How many times do I have to tell you? Keep. The wrappings. Tight."

Evelyn threw the bandaging on the table, wrapped one arm around her waist and pinched the bridge of her nose, clenching in frustration. "There are no ribs, this is a freaking MANNEQUIN! It's not exactly anatomically correct. Plus I'm in a wheelchair. Not exactly conducive to a wide range of movement or general dexterity." She clenched and unclenched her hands in frustration. "Can't you just commandeer someone from the regiment for me to practice on?"

"They're all busy accomplishing things while you're getting handsy with an inanimate object."

"Well how about I break your ribs and we'll get in some real practical application," Evelyn said with saccharine smile, cracking her knuckles in a menacing manner.

Harris chuckled softly under his breath. "I don't think that's an advisable course of action. I do, after all, hold the knowledge which you seek."

"Thanks, Yoda. Why don't you use the force to conjure us up some coffee."

Harris smirked. "You do realize that you just admitted to the cavernous depths of my knowledge. It had to happen sooner or later. I'm just glad that we finally got it out of the way."

Never one to have the second-to-last word, Evelyn had to add in one last parting shot. "You can interpret my analogy in whatever way strokes your ego the best, but I was just calling you short."

Harris opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, a figure brushed into the tent. Evelyn looked up from readjusting the wrappings on the mannequin to see Teddy walk in nursing his arm. Upon seeing Evelyn he stopped suddenly and his eyes widened a bit. "Oh. Hi guys." He just stood there awkwardly until Harris broke the silence.

"Is there something I can help you with, Terry?" Dr. Harris asked with an impatient and condescending tone. Every once in a while he had to remind Evelyn why she didn't like him.

Teddy was obviously surprised to see her. He kept looking back and forth between Evelyn and Harris with a confused look on his face. "Nope, nothing. It's all good."

Evelyn furrowed her eyebrows and looked at him quizzically. "Teddy?"

"Yeah?"

"Unless there is a very long and very odd story involving a bottle of ketchup, you're bleeding."

"What?" He looked at his arm which was covered in a red sticky substance. He let out an embarrassed laugh and rubbed the back of his neck with his uninjured hand. "Oh, right. I got a pretty bad cut during patrol when….um….when I was involved in the righteous takedown of a couple of skitters," he finished quickly.

"He tripped and fell on a burnt-out car!" a disembodied voice shouted from behind the curtains.

"Shut UP, Ethan!" Evelyn could see his face flush red all the way to the roots of his hair. Poor guy. The two of them got along fine, but every time they encountered each other it was like hitting the restart button. He would get all flustered until he eventually became comfortable in the conversation.

Evelyn took pity on him and decided to let him off the hook. "Dude, that sucks," she said, patting his good arm as a gesture of concerned understanding. "A righteous skitter takedown and you get injured on debris. Hardly seems fair. I guess the universe enjoys irony."

Teddy smiled at her. "Yeah. Just when you think you're out of the woods….." Evelyn wasn't sure if Teddy recognized that she was throwing him a bone or if he was taking her words at face value.

Harris coughed loudly, interrupting their conversation. "Tod, if you've forgotten that you're bleeding all over my medial station, then you're a lot worse off than a bad scrape. Sit down, shut up, and show me the injury."

Without another word Teddy sat down at the table, rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, and extended his arm on the table. There was a jagged cut about five inches long running down the length of his forearm. Harris put on his glasses and grabbed Teddy's hand, pulling his arm forward to inspect the damage. A few moments later he dropped the arm back on the table, folded his glasses and placed them in his breast pocket. "Well, Thomas, there is no major damage here. You'll be needing a few stitches and have to be careful to avoid infection, but it shouldn't interfere with your daily activities at all." Then Harris turned to Evelyn with an almost conspiratorial glint in his eyes. "So how about it, Walsh?

Evelyn blinked rapidly. "Say what, now?"

"You wanted some practical application. Here's your opportunity. Provided Tim agrees to be your guinea pig. I'll be there to observe, of course."

Evelyn took a steadying breath. "What do you say, Teddy? Can I sew you up like a patchwork quilt?"

Teddy's face showed a bit of anxiety, but he quickly rearranged his features into one of relaxed nonchalance. He casually shrugged his shoulder. "Sure, why not?"

Evelyn wheeled herself up to the table and selected the appropriate gauge of needle and thread for the task. Fifteen minutes later she stared down at a set of perfectly executed stitches. Teddy probably didn't enjoy how long it took her to get the job done, but nobody, not even Dr. Harris, could argue with the results.

"Huh," was all she said in response to her accomplishment.

"Not bad, Walsh," Harris said, inspecting her work. "So what's next?"

"Clean and disinfect the wound, wrap it in gauze."

"Good, now get to it. You get to deal with Tucker now." With that Harris spun on his heel and strutted out of the medical area, leaving the pair alone with confused looks on their faces. If Max and Dr. Harris didn't hate each other so much, she would seriously suspect that they were colluding. She may by paranoid, but just because you think they're out to get you doesn't mean they're not.

Evelyn wheeled around to face her first patient. "Has he ever gotten you name right?"

Teddy scratched the bridge of his nose. "Never. Not once."

Evelyn maneuvered towards the set of Wal-Mart shelves that housed the sparse medical supplies available to the 7th Mass, grabbing the hydrogen peroxide and gauze, throwing them on her lap. "You'd think he would land on 'Teddy' eventually, statistically speaking. He's probably actively avoiding using the right one to mess with you." She wheeled back towards Teddy. "Extend your arm, please," she said pouring a small amount of the disinfectant on the gauze.

"Soooooooooo," Teddy said with a smile, "You going to nurture me back to health, Nurse Walsh?"

Evelyn did a small double take and raised her eyebrows on surprise. "Don't make me party to your mantasies."

"My what?"

"Mantasies. You know, man-fantasies."

"Oh. That just sounds far too much like 'manatees'."

"Hm. I guess it does. Oh well, I'm still using it."

"Don't objectify the manatees."

"Why not?" Evelyn said with a smirk. "You seem to have no problem objectifying me. Are you saying I am less deserving of respect than the manatees?"

Flustered Teddy then decided to make another appearance. "Wh-what? No! I don't- I mean I respect you-." He clued in to her amused expression and, seeing that she wasn't actually offended, and attempted to adopt a cool demeanor. His posture immediately went from ramrod straight to overly relaxed in a matter of seconds. "This guy has no game whatsoever," Evelyn thought to herself. Though she kind of liked it that way.

"Well, manatees are an endangered species after all."

Evelyn snorted. "Look around you, Teddy," she said vaguely waving her hand. "So are we."

With that encounter, Evelyn established a bit of a pattern during her stint as an invalid. She would spend the majority of the day in the medical bay with Dr. Harris, helping him sort through medical supplies, taking care of some of the more minor injuries, and assisting on some of the more serious ones. After finishing up for the day, she would go and find Teddy to tend to his stitches. Then there was physical therapy, again with Dr. Harris, and finally dinner with Max, Amy, and Marjorie. She had attempted to teach Amy Five Card Stud, but apparently the little swindler already knew how. Evelyn lost two Twinkies and a pack of sugarless gum. Oddly enough, she didn't feel guilty for resenting a twelve year old, especially when said twelve-year-old was a conniving little fraud. She had really wanted that gum. Eventually she got out of the wheelchair and began to use crutches

Even after she removed his sutures, she continued visit Teddy. He spent most of his time in the salvage yard, either scavenging for parts or repairing damaged machinery. He was the best mechanic in the 7th Mass. Other than Max, Teddy was her only friend who had actually passed through puberty. Unfortunately, upon spending more time with Teddy, Evelyn found it more difficult to deny what Max, and apparently Harris, seemed to see all too clearly. Teddy had feelings for her. Feelings that extended beyond simple friendship.

Shockingly, Evelyn wasn't exactly comfortable with emotional intimacy. Whether or not it was intentional, she had all of the relationships she had developed expressly precluded the formation of that kind of bond. Before the invasion she didn't have any friends, and afterwards the characteristics of the people she was closest with had prevented any exchange of the romantic variety. But Teddy, Teddy pose a problem to the neat little box she had placed her life in. He was a wonderful person and a good friend, but what she suspected he wanted from her, she wouldn't be able to give him. He was too naïve, too good, too happy, too sensitive for this hellscape, even before having to deal with the dysfunction that had embedded itself so deeply into Evelyn's personality. She knew that he would never make her happy, not in that way, and she knew that she could never be what he needed. Evelyn knew what she was, and, much like this world they lived in, she was too damaged. He would keep trying to fix her, and it would break him when he failed. Evelyn couldn't be responsible for that. She wouldn't inflict herself upon him. Much to her chagrin, he disagreed with her. Every time she visited him in that salvage yard, she would drop hints about the future of their relationship, or lack thereof, but he would just but on that sweet, dopy smile of his and completely disregard everything she said. The whole situation would have been much easier if he was an asshole.

Eventually, instead of subtly trying to convince Teddy to give up on her, she chose to avoid him. This avoidance didn't involve launching herself in the opposite direction every time he walked by, but what it did involve was throwing herself into her medical studies with Dr. Harris, spending more hours in the medical bay.

"You know, for someone who hates hospitals so much, you sure do spend a lot of time hanging out around medical supplies."

Evelyn spun around in her office chair, turning away from the text she was reading to find herself facing Max, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Call it aversion therapy. Plus, it's the bed that really gets to me," she said snapping the book shut. "How was patrol?"

"Generally boring. It looks like the skitters are heading East, which is good news for us." But there was a question in his voice that forced a shiver down her spine. When he made his 'grumpy turtle face', Evelyn knew something was up. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to his question.

"What's wrong, Max?"

"Hm? What? Oh, nothing." Evelyn could tell that he was lying, something was bothering him. But Max he was her partner, and she trusted that if she needed to know anything, he would tell her. And she would let him keep his little secret. For now.

Max sighed. "Anyway, it's chow time, so why don't you hobble on over. Amy needs a positive female role model in her life, or she'll become a delinquent. She kicked a kid in the nads for pulling her braids earlier today."

"And you think I'm that female role model? If I were her, I would probably have punched the kid in the man-bits too. And if I were there when she did it I would probably give her a high-five."

Max rolled his eyes. "Yes, you're a bad influence, you need an exorcism or electroshock therapy or a fucking spa day, blah, blah, blah. Just hobble on over dinner." And with that he spun on hell and exited stage left.

"I do need a fucking spa day," Evelyn shouted after him, "My hair has spit ends and don't get me started on the state of my pores!"

Preparing to depart, Evelyn assembled all of the medical supplies from the suture job she had just finished. A fourteen-year-old kid had been grazed be an errant piece of shrapnel. This world forced children to grow up way too fast. And what's worse, they wanted to. Amy was already itching to pick up a gun.

Trying to carry all of the materials from the table to the shelves was no easy task while using crutches. While on her way, she dropped a roll of gauze which made its way under the bed. Evelyn cursed silently and eased herself to the floor, extending her leg carefully so as not to disrupt the wound. As she reached blindly under the bed, her hand came into contact with something unfamiliar. She pulled out a metal box kept shut by a padlock. Letting her curiosity get the best of her, as she so frequently did, she scooted over to a nearby storage locker and rummaged around looking for a bolt cutter. As the bolt cutter's jaws closed around the lock, she coughed loudly and dramatically in a sad attempt to cover the noise of crunching metal. She quickly discarded the now useless lock and opened the box. What she saw inside shocked her to her core.

There were dozens upon dozens of Polaroid photos of children at various stages of harness removal. It didn't look like any of them had made it. It appeared that, with the extrication of the entire harness, the spinal cord was completely shredded. As she made her way through the photos, the subject matter seemed to shift from attempts to remove the harness to autopsies. Underneath the photos, Evelyn found a notebook filled with barely legible handwriting that she recognized as belonging to Harris. He was trying to find a way to remove the harness. Evelyn didn't go to dinner that night. She didn't go to her bed either. She stayed up through the night with a flashlight, Harris's notes, and all the medical books on neuroanatomy that she could get her hands on. That night was the first that she had ever voluntarily fallen asleep on a hospital bed.  
-

The next morning Evelyn awoke to a curtain being yanked open, sunlight assaulting her and forcing her awake, but she refused to give any indication of the fact. "What the hell is this?"

The angry and confused voice of Dr. Harris finally forced her out of her semi-comatose reverie. She sat up in the bed, groaning her eyes and rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hands. "Wuzgoinon," she muttered incoherently. After all, she had only gotten a few hours of restless sleep.

"Why are you asking me? It looks like a tornado took up residence in here!" he said gesturing around frantically. And then Harris noticed what he was gesturing at and froze. "Oh shit. You found them. Nobody was supposed to see those"

It was Evelyn's turn to look accusatory. She hauled herself to her feet to so that she could bring herself to his height and look at him levelly. "Why didn't you tell me you've been looking for a way to remove the harness?"

Harris kneaded his forehead with his hand. "I didn't want to give anybody false hope."

Evelyn scoffed. "What hope can we have for the future if we aren't willing to work together? To collaborate? I could have helped you. And I will help you."

Harris stiffened. Evelyn could see all traces of contrition fall from his face as he replaced the suit of armor that was his arrogance. "I've been studying medicine for over twenty years. How exactly is a kid without so much as a Bachelor's degree and virtually no medical experience going to solve this problem?"

Evelyn and Harris had, over the past two weeks, come to a sort of mutual understanding, maybe even mutual respect. But sometimes she really did hate the guy. "Remove the stick from the lower end of your digestive tract, Harris," she growled, narrowing her eyes. "I know I don't have the qualifications for this kind of thing, but Einstein did his best work as a patent clerk."

"You can't seriously be compa—"

"Of course not, you nit. I'm just saying that approaching the problem from a different perspective may allow for some sort of breakthrough. I may lack the expertise to create a viable procedure for removal, but I could provide some insight into the problem. So why don't you just sit down, shut up, and listen to me for a change."

Harris's response was quite shocking. "Fine."

"What?"

Harris raised a single eyebrow and sat down on the chair, behind him. He spun around in the chair to face her, looking vaguely like a Bond villain about to reveal his dastardly plan. "From your little outburst, I take it that you have something to add? Dazzle me."

"Um, ok. Well—" Evelyn pulled her bedraggled hair into a messy ponytail and then turned to the bed and rifled through the somewhat crumpled papers she had slept on. Words rushed out of her mouth quickly, her excitement and her anxiety evident. "So, you pointed out in your notes that the harness fuses with the host's spinal cord, growing into it like the roots of a tree. Obviously complete removal of the harness isn't viable. And partial resection didn't work either because the kids would go into shock—"

"I know all this already, Walsh."

"Shhhhhhhh, just let me finish." She paused to make sure he wouldn't interrupt. "Alright, so in my opinion we don't know nearly enough about alien physiology and we don't have the resources to conduct an adequate inquiry. We're getting so bogged down with the unknown that we're ignoring the things we already know that could help us. I think we should simplify the situation and try modeling the scenario based on human physiology instead." She paused, waiting for a response.

"How do you mean?" Harris asked. Evelyn gave a small smile. He was curious. He was intrigued. And that meant that she just might be onto something.

"Treat the harness like a tumor." She turned back around to the bed and rooted around till she found the book she needed and forcing it into his hands. "Specifically tumors that affect the human endocrine system. I mean, hormones moderate all kinds of behaviors –I took a behavioral endocrinology class over the summer before the skitters hit—and I think that it might be possible that the skitters are altering or modulating behavior through hormone manipulation or something like it." Harris's eyes skimmed over the page of the book with a furrowed brow. He looked back up to Evelyn, nodding for her to continue. "I also found an article about the removal of that type of tumor." She started fumbling through the pages again. "Ah, here it is," she said thrusting it into his hands. "It says that the sudden removal of one of the hormone-y tumors can lead to extreme withdrawal symptoms. I'm not saying the answer is right, but it fits!" She was breathing heavily after her rushed monologue. Evelyn looked at the doctor expectantly, but he remained completely quiet, looking back and forth between the papers. As she rambled on, that tiny spark of hope she had for a solution had been fanned into a brightly flame, but with each moment Harris remained silent, that fire died a little more. Her shoulders sagged as she sank down on the bed behind her. After what felt like hours, Harris looked back at her with a look in his eyes that she couldn't define.

"Evelyn, this might work."


	7. Ignorance Is Bliss, But It Also Gets You

**Ok, so I would once again like to thank everyone for reading/reviewing/favoriting/following, though I do have to say that I am getting a little disheartened by the lack of input. Maybe it's because I haven't gotten to Hal and the 2nd Mass yet, but that'll be in two or three more chapters, so bear with me. Last chapter you saw smart!Evelyn and in this one you'll see some of the badass!Evelyn that has been missing during her recovery. You also learn a lot about her past.**

**All of the medical stuff and technical stuff I add in the story is at least partially reality-based. I don't pretend to be a doctor, an engineer, a mechanic, or anything like that, but I can use GoogleScholar, and I'm not just making all of this stuff up. All the technical terms are real (though they might not be completely accurately represented, like I said, I'm no expert).**

**There are photos of my OCs on my profile. Just copy the link and delete the spaces.**

_**Please review. I want to know if this sucks or not (hopefully not).**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Falling Skies'**

Chapter 7 – Ignorance Is Bliss, But It Can Get You Killed

Two weeks after she had been able to leave that infuriating wheelchair behind her, Evelyn found herself sitting in it once again. She wheeled herself out of the warehouse and onto the gravel in front of it. She sat there for a while, clearing her mind and preparing herself for what she was about to do. She placed her hands on the wheels and pushed with all her might. The chair tilted backwards and her feet rose in the air. She then gripped the tires of the chair, steeling herself for the impact that would ultimately come. But it didn't.

Evelyn whooped. She continued to roll around in front of that warehouse, popping wheelies and reveling in the fact that she was in that wheelchair by choice, not necessity. Max stood not far away with Marjorie on his shoulders and Amy by his side. They were all grinning like idiots as Evelyn continued to make an idiot of herself. Evelyn managed to put herself in a perfectly balanced 'stationary wheelie' and looked back at the trio. This was the closest she had ever gotten to a family.

Dr. Harris had left the 7th Mass three days earlier, waiting till he could be absolutely certain that Evelyn had made a full recovery. She suspected that maybe he had actually started to like her. He even shook her hand. The reason for his departure was, of course, directly related to the breakthrough Evelyn had pioneered. Based on her insight, Michael, as he had now asked her to call him, had developed a strategy which could, theoretically, allow for the successful removal of harnesses. They 7th Mass simply didn't have the resources to accommodate the sort of research necessary. Communications were down, but whispers indicated that the 2nd Mass was still operational, better equipped, and fairly close by. Outside Acton, supposedly. Max had found a functional truck while out on a scouting mission and set it up with enough fuel and food to get Harris where he needed to go. He had parked it at a fair distance away from camp so that Harris could slip away quietly during the night seeing as Clayton probably would not take kindly to his departure. Harris had tried to convince Evelyn to flee with him, but she couldn't leave her new family.

She pushed herself out of the wheelchair and started doing cartwheels, not caring as the bits of gravel stung her hands upon impact. The joy of her newfound health was somewhat mitigated by the two months of latrine duty that sadistic bastard Clayton had inflicted on her, but she was finally going out on scouting mission. The regiment was running low on gas and ammunition, so they were planning a foray into town. Nothing was going to dampen her spirits, not even a mouthy twelve-year-old. "You're going to pull a muscle," Amy chanted out in lilting syllables.

Evelyn walked up to Amy and kissed her on the forehead. "I most certainly will not. I'm just limbering up to kick some major skitter ass."

"That's a bad word," came a voice using the same lilting intonation. But this time the voice came from above, from the little girl sitting on Max's shoulders. Evelyn blinked a few times. She had just been mocked by a six-year-old, this was a new low. Max smothered a laugh with his fist and patted Marjorie's leg in approval. Dear God, there were three of them now.

The sound of gravel crunching underfoot came from behind. "Geeze Evelyn, way to scar the youths in their formative years." Evelyn looked over her shoulder to see Teddy marching towards her with a giant black duffel bag. By the time she turned back around the three had vanished. It was as if the earth had swallowed them whole, leaving absolutely no trace. Teddy dropped the duffel and leaned against the wall shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans and hunching his shoulders. "I come bearing firearms."

Evelyn's face lit up. "Ooooooooooh, lovely! What have you got for me!" she said squatting down and unzipping the bag. Right on top of the pile she found a Colt assault rifle. She ran her fingers over the gun, trying to get a feel for its weight and how it would handle in the field. When her fingers reached the but of the gun, she felt a bit of a rough patch. When she looked, she saw a small peace sign carved there. A grin broke out over her face. "Should I leave the two of you alone?" Teddy asked with a wry smile.

She looked up at Teddy gratefully and hugged the gun to her chest. "You brought me Sherlock? I thought I lost him last time I was on patrol."

Teddy laughed. "I still can't believe you name your guns after literary characters. Max went back later to find him for you. He suggested I look after him in the meantime, with you in the chair and all. Said you didn't need to be given the opportunity to shoot someone."

Evelyn snorted. "Nice to know he has so much faith in me."

"Well, not to get on your bad side or anything, but I do feel obligated to point out that you are currently embracing an automatic weapon. Some might consider that troubling behavior."

They lapsed into silence while Evelyn equipped herself for the supplies run. She slung a gun harness over her navy blue and gray flannel shirt and strapped a thigh holster around her fitted, but comfortable jeans. She double-checked to make sure all the guns, including Sherlock, were loaded and added some spare magazines to her knapsack. As a last line of defense, she subtly tucked one knife into her right boot and strapped another to her left forearm, hiding it under her long-sleeved shirt. Since she was almost killed by that skitter, she had decided it was good to have a weapon for close-proximity fighting. She also thought it was a good idea to carry at least one weapon that nobody, not even humans, knew about. Over the past few weeks the atmosphere in the camp had changed. It was almost undetectable, but it was there. Some of the men in the regiment, particularly those closest to Clayton, were on edge. And Evelyn didn't like it. She had a motto. It was simple and clichéd, but sayings become clichés for a reason: 'better safe than sorry'. And in this world, safe meant taking a lot of precautions, against humans and aliens alike.

When she finally stood back up, Teddy was still standing there, staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face. "I'd tell you to take a picture, but we don't really have any cameras, do we?"

Usually that little quip would have gotten a soft laugh or flustered response, depending on how awkward Teddy was feeling that day, but this time he just kept staring. "Teddy?"

He shook his head, as if to bring shake off the thoughts plaguing him. He took a step forward and put a hand on her shoulder. "Just….don't let what happened last time happen again, OK? Be careful." He made a slight movement forward, but then seemed to think better of it. Evelyn took a step forward and closed the distance between them, throwing her arms around his neck and enclosing him in a hug. He stood there in shock for a moment before wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning his head against her shoulder. "You know me, Teddy. I'm always careful."

His only response was an enthusiastic snort of disbelief.

Evelyn and Max ambled towards command central to check in with Clayton before moving out, as was policy with the 7th Mass. When they reached the office, the door was slightly ajar and they could hear frantic whispering from the interior. Clayton was in a heated argument with one of his lieutenants, Keith. Keith was the only one of Clayton's inner circle that Evelyn did not regard as suspect. He was a generally friendly guy, and he hated the skitters more than anyone else she knew. He was pretty tight-lipped about why, though. He also had a love of Billy Joel that could only be described of as troubling, but that was neither here nor there. But if he was fighting with Clayton, that couldn't mean anything good. She finally heard his rough, gravelly voice explode above everything else. "Lobby all you want, but I'm never going to agree!"

Evelyn heard the scraping of a chair against the floor and yanked Max around the corner, behind a pile of boxes. If there was discord within the chain of command, she and Max didn't need to be party to it. She was already in hot water, on thin ice, or whichever metaphor was preferable, and Max was dragged there with her by association. They waited five minutes before making their way into the office, just to avoid any suspicion.

"You're late," Clayton barked, not looking up from the papers before him.

"Yeah, sorry. It took a while for me to get all my supplies together. First day back and all that," Evelyn replied casually. Sometimes it surprised her how easily she could lie, but at this point, as far as she was concerned, honesty had to be earned. Especially when the person she was addressing was a creepy, secretive old man.

"Don't let it happen again. We've already picked the eastern portion of the city clean, so take the northwest quadrant. I sent a two patrol units out there last night, and the area is completely clear. It should be an easy job. Move out."

The pair saluted and headed to the Dodge pickup they would be using to grab supplies. As they drove down the road, avoiding the debris that littered it, an uncertain silence settled over them. Evelyn knew Max had been keeping things from her, and up to now she was willing to put up with it. But too much was changing in the 7th Mass and she needed to know what was going on.

She gave him a piercing look. "So what aren't you telling me?"

"Hm. Nothing. I'm an open book," he said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, if that book was written in invisible ink."

"Just drop it, Lyn. Let's just drive, play I-Spy or something."

Evelyn huffed and crossed her arms, sinking back in the passenger seat. "Fine. I spy with my little eye something that starts with a 'd'."

A few moments of silence passed between them. Max shot her a few sidelong glances. "You're thinking of the word 'dick' aren't y—"

"YES, MAX! We're fucking partners! If you know something, you have to tell me. I know I'm seventeen, but I am NOT a little kid. I haven't been for years. You know this. So stop trying to protect me from whatever it is you're hiding, because you're starting to piss me off."

Max took a breath. "You're right. It's just that when I look at you I sometimes see my kid sister. Marcy was never cut out for this kind of life, but you're not her." He pulled the car to the side of the road and turned to face her. "Something is up in the 7th Mass."

Evelyn gave him a withering look. "I know that, Max. I might have been crippled, but I wasn't blind."

"But you were working with Harris the whole time. You might not have been blind, but you definitely had blinders on. That's not a criticism, what you were doing was important, but there has been a lot more going on outside the medical bay." His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white, and he looked down in his lap before continuing. "There have been a lot of closed door meetings and a lot of angry whispering. Also, I snuck back to that harnessing station about four days after we found it, just to see what was going on, and it was completely abandoned. That prison had too many strategic advantages for the skitters to abandon it willy-nilly." He looked back up at Evelyn with a solemn expression. "Something is about to go down, Lyn. I don't know what, but it's not going to be pretty.

Evelyn let out a low whistle. She returned the stare with equal gravitas. "I think it's time to go house-hunting."

Max nodded. "Yeah, I think it is."

He kicked the car back into gear and they continued down the dirt road to the town. They stopped at a gas station to fill up their canisters, and then continued on to find munitions. They pulled up in front of the local Wall-Mart supercenter, and Max grabbed the fire axe in the back of the truck. Before the invasion, Evelyn had been all for harsher gun regulation. At the time, the fact that rifles could be sold in a grocery store was worrisome to an extreme degree, but it certainly came in handy after the skies fell. One stop shopping for cans, clothes, and firearms. Evelyn grabbed Sherlock and an empty duffel and slid out of the passenger seat, taking light steps and glancing around.

Evelyn moved in first, kicking in the doors and clearing the corners before giving Max the all-clear. They walked down the aisles, making sure that they were alone before putting down their weapons. They had cleared the store and Max was about to break the padlock on the gun safe when Evelyn glanced at the ceiling. Shit. There were three skitters hanging from the ceiling. Evelyn put her hand on Max's shoulder and gestured upwards. They both grabbed their weapons. They stood back to back so they had full visibility of the area. "Alright, Lyn. You ready?" Max whispered.

Evelyn smirked. "Came out the birth canal that way. On my count. Tick, tick, boom."

They opened fire on the skitters above, taking them out with three short bursts from their assault rifles. "OK, we got to get out of here quick." Max hacked off the padlock with the axe and threw open the case. Evelyn hastily shoved as many guns and as much ammunition as possible into her duffel and hoisted it over her shoulder. "OK, I got it. Let's go."

The two stayed low to the ground and they hurried to the store's entrance. It was entirely possible that there were more skitters around, and if that was the case, the noise of their weapons would attract more of them. Evelyn then heard a mechanical whirring noise started moving towards them. "Or it could attract a mech," she thought bitterly. Well, shit.

They didn't really have a lot of options. Their best option was to stay hidden and then get the hell out of that store. Unfortunately the alien menace had basic logic skills. If there was a truck half-filled with supplies sitting outside a store, it wouldn't take too long for the mech to investigate. Evelyn had to think of something, and fast. Her mind racing a thousand miles a minute, she came up with a half-assed plan that just might get them out of there.

She crept up next to Max. "Excuse me, honey. I have some shopping to do. She left the duffel of guns behind and headed to garden supplies. She skidded to a halt in front of the seated lawn mowers. She grabbed one of the gasoline canisters near them and quickly filled the tank. She then drove over to the grills where she collected some propane tanks and a lighter. Finally grabbed a bottle of bourbon from the liquor aisle and made her way back to Max at the front of the store.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Just go with it, Max." The mech was now standing almost directly outside the store. Evelyn removed her flannel shirt, leaving her in a black undershirt. She doused it with bourbon and shoved it into the neck of the bottle. She drove the lawn mower until it was pointed directly out of the storefront. Unfortunately this brought her into the line of visions of the mech. It started to shoot. Max provided suppressing fire while Evelyn fished the lighter out of her pocket and lit her shirt on fire. She used the flaming bottle of Jack Daniels to brace the pedal of the mower. She quickly rolled aside as the mower drove directly at the mech, carrying with it three canisters of propane. She took a calming breath and grabbed a handgun from the harness around her shoulders. "Tick, tick, boom." She fired three shots at the propane tanks, instigating an enormous explosion. The mech exploded, sending chunks everywhere. Evelyn's ears were ringing, but still had enough auditory acuity to hear Max's comment of "holy fucking shit". It felt like hours, but the entire encounter had gone down in a matter or minutes.

Evelyn got up off the ground and ran over to Max to see if he was OK. He had been hit in the left arm by a piece of shrapnel, but it was only a graze. Evelyn went back into the store and filled a shopping basket with medical supplies, and then sprinted to the truck as quickly as possible. Then the two made their way back to camp.

"Hey, Lyn?"

"Yup."

"I think Clayton neglected to mention something."

"He most certainly did."

"Lyn?"

"What is it now, Max?"

"That was awesome."

Evelyn smiled to herself. "Thanks, Max."

Over the next week, Evelyn and Max went around business as usual, keeping up appearances around the base, but they were preparing for a defection. The day after their encounter with the mech, they searched out a decent hiding place for the two of them, Amy, and Marjorie. Maybe Teddy, too. Evelyn was quite conflicted about that particular issue. They had settled on the Souza-Baranowski Correctional Center in Shirley, Massachusetts. The place was ideal. It had been a super-max facility before the invasion, so the structure was incredibly defensible and it had an observational tower that would provide a fantastic vantage point. It also came with an entire arsenal of weapons: guns, tazers, mace, riot gear, the whole nine yards. Every day they went on supplies runs, but they kept some of the materials separate, stockpiling them at the prison in preparation for leaving the 7th Mass.

Evelyn was in her 'thinking spot', sitting on the branch of the giant oak tree at the top of the hill. She was swinging her feet back and forth like she did back when she was a kid. She heard some grunting and shaking leaves as someone else hauled himself up the tree. She scooted over in anticipation of his arrival. "I can see why you like it here," Max muttered. "It almost seems like nothing ever happened."

Evelyn looked up at the stars shining through the leaves of the tree. "I used to do this all the time. We had an oak tree like this in my backyard. When I looked at the stars, everything became so small. I felt insignificant, one person in the face of all that. It was oddly comforting, you know? The fact that nothing I did ultimately mattered meant that, if I did nothing, I wouldn't have a negative impact on the world. It's a lot harder to think that way when 90% of the population is gone." Max didn't respond. He just nodded his head to indicate that he understood. "Today's my birthday."

"I know."

"How could you possibly—"

Max thrust something into her hand. It was her driver's license. "I stole it from your wallet a month ago." And then he held out a small box.

"What's this?" Evelyn enquired as she took the box from him.

"If I understand correctly, it is customary to provide a gift on such occasions. It's not much but—"

Evelyn opened the gift. Inside she saw a chain. She pulled it out. At the end of the chain she saw two pieces of metal. It was Max's dogtags from the Iraq War. She opened her mouth to thank him, but the words simple wouldn't come out. She opened and closed her mouth, looking like a fish out of water. Max smiled. "You don't have to say anything. In fact, this is probably the only time I've managed to make you shut up."

They sat and looked at the moon-soaked scene in front of them. "So, I think it's about time I heard your story."

"How do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb, Evelyn. I've told you everything about myself, about Charlie, about Marcy, even about my crazy-ass ex-wife. You've told me everything about present-you, but nothing about past-you. For all I know you were in a leper colony, or a cult, or in a fucking youth detention center. So, what gives?"

Evelyn sighed. Other than her outburst when she saw Ben being taken, she hadn't uttered a word about her history. She didn't particularly want to go back there, but she owed Max that much. Hell, she owed him more than that.

"Ok," she said quietly. Max handed her a hip flask. She let out a dry laugh and took a swig. "Bourbon, funny," she coughed out as a burning feeling coated her throat.

"It's good for more than blowing up giant alien robots," Max said with a wry smile.

"You know it's illegal to give alcohol to a minor."

"I'll risk it."

Evelyn exhaled slowly, preparing herself for her upcoming monologue. "Well, Julia, that's my mom, she was a social climber. I was born a little less than nine months after my parents married, I added it up when I was twelve, so I'm about 90% sure that she got herself pregnant to coerce my dad into proposing. She never really wanted kids, or if she did she had a poor way of showing it. Her way of caring was paying for dance lessons, music lessons, horseback riding lessons, and all the clothes I never wanted in lieu of actual affection. My dad was a big time stockbroker, so he rarely ever had time outside of work, but Julia was just indifferent. I was raised by a string of nannies and nurses. I grew up in a suburb, big house, white picket fence and everything. I didn't have many friends in elementary school, but I got along OK. Then, when I was thirteen, my dad got arrested. Apparently he had orchestrated a massive Ponzi scheme that rivaled that of Bernie Madoff. Most of the town had invested with him, and lost everything. He went to prison and I went to high school. Needless to say my classmates avoided me after that. I was the daughter of the guy who ruined their family or their friends'. It didn't help that I skipped a year. Nerd plus having a felon for a father equals social pariah. I was the 'rich bitch' that symbolized all of their misfortune. I sat at the lunch table alone, I wasn't asked to prom. You're typical teen sob story. College was better, but I was still the kid who was two years younger than anyone else."

The both of them continued to stare out at the scene before them, refusing to make eye contact. "What about that kid, the one taken to the harnessing station. Ben? Who was he?"

"Ben lived across the street from me. It was him, his parents, and his two brothers Matt and Hal. They were my escape from 'pastel hell'. That's what I called my room. Julia designed it for me, or, probably more accurately, in front of me. She never really asked me what I wanted. I spent as much time in the Masons' backyard as possible. It was all soccer and mud pies and climbing trees. When I was a kid, dirt was a form of rebellion. Julia designed one of those super-pretentious houses where everything was white, so that if people got it dirty you could judge them. It was almost like being in a mental asylum, it sure as hell drove me crazy. I was more myself in the Masons' backyard than I was anywhere else, especially my house. Matt should be nine or ten right now. Hal's my age. I had the biggest crush on him. I did all the way through high school, too. They were my best friends back then when we were kids. After my dad, though, things kind of fell apart there. After a while Matt was the only one who would really talk to me, he really didn't understand what was going on. He was too young for that. Hal didn't talk to me at all while we were at school, and barely ever did outside of it either." Max seemed to seethe a bit. "Please calm down, Max. I've made my peace with it. I don't blame him for it and neither should you. High school is hard, and if Hal had stuck with me, he'd have been a social leper as well. He never teased me, he was never cruel to me like most of the others were. He could have easily jumped on that bandwagon. He was the lacrosse captain, he was popular, but he never teased me. I even saw him trying to deflect some other people sometimes." Evelyn ran her hands through her bright red hair, working out all the knots with her fingers. "I don't know what happened to the rest of them, to Mr. and Mrs. Mason, to Matt, to Hal. I hope they're alright, though."

Max just sat there for a long time. "Well," he muttered, "I wasn't expecting that."

Evelyn offered up a weak smile. "I guess now you know why I hate being called princess." Max wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her so that her head rested on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and listened to the wind moving through the trees. She thought reliving the loneliness high school would be painful, but she felt strangely liberated. She was never going back to that place in her life, she was happier after the invasion than she ever was before. Eventually she drifted off into a light doze, Max's arm ensuring that she didn't plummet to the ground.

Later that night, Evelyn was woken up by someone lightly shaking her shoulder. She opened her bleary eyes, blinking until everything came into focus. Max was staring intently at her with a finger to his lips, trying to keep her quiet. He gestured towards the lake. About 100 meters out she saw Clayton. He kept checking his watch and running his hands through his hair, like he was anxious about something. After about fifteen minutes of waiting, Evelyn picked up the sound of rustling leaves and breaking twigs, far too close for comfort. Three figures emerged from the forest about twenty meters to her left. She let out a sigh of relief when she realized they hadn't noticed her. The first one was a little girl with blond hair. She looked like she had some sort skin condition covering her neck and part of her face. The next person to exit the forest was a girl about Evelyn's age. Blonde, pretty, and harnessed. The last figure was not human at all. It was impossibly tall, and it looked like someone had taken it's skin and pulled as hard as possible so that it was taught over the bone structure. Evelyn had never seen this kind of alien before. The three of them stood there, the older blonde and Clayton talking about something. They were out her earshot. They shook hands. What the fuck was happening?

**Guess which two mystery blondes made an appearance. Get it right and you get a cookie.**

**Again, PLEASE REVIEW! I want to make reading this story as enjoyable as possible for you guys.  
**


	8. Exodus

**PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! The 2nd Mass is about to enter the story, I swear. I just want to know if this is worth writing.**

**I will keep writing and posting no matter what, but reviews are definite motivation. Knowing that people actually like this might make me commit myself more. I've actually been neglecting my real-world work for this fic, so it would be great to know if my sacrifices are worthwhile.  
**

**Disclaimer: I wish I was Steven Spielberg. However, I am incapable of growing facial hair, so I never will be him. And therefore I will never own 'Falling Skies' (insert sadface emoticon here). I do own Evelyn and my other OCs.**

**Check out the appearances of my characters by visiting my profile.**

**Below you will see badass! Evelyn, badass/scary! Max, and even badass! Teddy (mixed in with adorable! Teddy, of course).**

Chapter 8 – Exodus

Clayton made a deal with the skitters. No, not with the skitters, with whatever was commanding them. Fuck. Evelyn knew something was going on, but FUCK! The argument with Keith the other week made a whole lot more sense now, but that made the whole situation even more goddamn terrifying. It wasn't just Clayton himself, other people in the regiment were in on it too, whatever 'it' was. And 'it' had apparently been in the works for quite some time.

Max and Evelyn stayed in that tree for a good twenty minutes after the unholy cabal had disbanded, just to be sure that their presence wasn't suspected. The entire way back to base Evelyn begged Max not to do anything rash. He promised not to, but she knew better than to believe him. The two of them silently slipped into the sleeping quarters. They both mimed preparing for sleep, Max to convince Evelyn to go to sleep and Evelyn to make Max believe that she intended to do so. But Evelyn remained fully clothed, combat boots and all, and made sure to keep both Sherlock and her knapsack within an arms reach. She closed her eyes and intentionally modulated her breathing so that it came out in long, slow breaths. She even added in a snore or two. When Max told her that she snored she thought he was messing with her, but Teddy, who slept two bunks over, had confirmed, except instead saying that it sounded like a lawnmower running over gravel, Teddy insisted it was cute. She wasn't sure which of them was telling the truth, but she chose to believe Teddy.

Low and behold, an hour later Max quietly unzipped his sleeping bag. He leaned over her, checking her sleep status, and then picked his way through the sleeping figures, stopping by the tiny sleeping figure of Marjorie. He pushed the blonde curls away from the little girl's face and leaned down to kiss her forehead. For someone who was supposedly taught by the U.S. Marine Corps to withstand interrogation, he was pretty freaking transparent. She heard some rattling in the distance. She could visualize Max sitting at the door of Clayton's office with the American Express Black Card, the fancypants type designed specially for obscenely rich people like Jerry Seinfeld. He had claimed it as a souvenir, and took some strange satisfaction from using it to jimmy open locked doors. It was a weird way of sticking it to all the rich folks he resented from before the invasion. Evelyn then heard a click, followed by a faint squeak. He was in. She pulled out a mirror and angled it carefully so that she could see what was going on behind her. The muffled sounds of a scuffle reached her ears, and she saw the reflection two shadowed figures moving out of the office, one clearly being dragged. Evelyn counted to one hundred and then followed, toting her knapsack and Sherlock with her. As she reached the exit she did a double take. She thought she saw something move out of the corner of eye, but there was nothing. Just her own haunted reflection in the dirt-laden window. She hated that she there was fear visible in her eyes. She flipped up the hood on her jacket, casting her eyes into shadow. The anonymity that hood gave her was comforting. She readjusted the gun and the knapsack and slipped out into the night.

The cool air hit Evelyn's face as she moved out of the warehouse. In that light the salvage yard looked like a tomb. The errant scraps of metal bore an undeniable resemblance to the city streets of Boston where Evelyn saw so many people lose their lives. Max's trail wasn't exactly difficult to pick up, dirt and gravel weren't exactly conducive to concealment when you're single-handedly dragging a 200-pound man. The two parallel lines formed by Clayton's feet would lead her right to Max. When she found him he had tied an unconscious Clayton to a lamppost. Evelyn made herself as small as possible. She positioned herself behind a hideous wood-paneled station wagon with all its windows blown out so that she had a clear view of what was going on. Max disappeared for a moment and returned carrying a bucket. He dumped the water over Clayton's head. The 'commander' jolted back into consciousness, spluttering and shaking the water out of his hair.

"Good morning, _sir_," Max said with a venom in his voice Evelyn had never heard before.

"Huertas, what the HELL do you think you're doing? You've assaulted and restrained your commanding officer. Do you have any inkling of the pile of shit that is going to rain down upon your head for this?"

"I think you'll find that I'm the one in the position to be asking questions and making threats, commander," Max said, pulling a knife out of its sheath. He touched the point to his index finger and spun it around.

"Now, I have a few concerns about the strategies being implemented by the 7th Mass. There's no suggestion box and this seemed like the best way to get your attention." Max overturned the bucket and sat down in front of Clayton, tossing the knife from hand to hand.

Clayton gulped, looking at the knife. "What concerns might those be?"

"Mainly on how the regiment is dealing with the skitters, but with a side of why the fuck are you scheduling private meetings with the guys calling the shots."

Evelyn had to give Clayton credit, he was a pretty amazing liar. "What the hell are you talking about, Max? Is the PTSD acting up again? Harris said it could present in delusions or hallucinations. Maybe you should sit down, take a breath—"

"Save it Benedict Arnold. I know you made a deal with them. I saw you, the fish-head, and the two blonds by the lake earlier. Shaking hands is a pretty universal indicator. So did you buy with you thirty pieces of silver?" Max was tapping the flat of the blade against his captive's knee. Clayton was beginning to look more than a little worried. He gave up all pretense of obliviousness and responded to Max's demand. And his two-word answer shocked Evelyn to her core.

"Our lives."

"Excuse me?"

"I bought our lives. The lives of all the families of the 7th Mass. They've agreed to leave us alone. You, Walsh, and that little girl you've taken to. Marjorie, right? All of you can live with the promise of protection." Evelyn's eyes widened in shock and her hands instinctively tightened on the window ledge of the car. It sounded too good to be true. It WAS too good to be true. She wasn't buying what Clayton was selling, and, from the looks of it, Max wasn't either.

Max stood up and started pacing. He shook his head in disbelief. "I don't buy it. What's the catch? This has to be some kind of exchange, otherwise the skitters would never agree to it. Why would they if they're not getting anything? What are you giving them?"

"All they wanted was the kids. The majority of our civilian population right now is made up of children, most with no family to speak of. There are too many of them to take care of. They're of no use in this war. We're giving them the orphaned kids and they'll leave the rest of us alone."

Disgust flooded every fiber of her being. This man was the worst kind of opportunist, trading on the blood of the innocent to sustain the life of the damned. He was worse than the skitters themselves. He was treating the war like a game of chess, offering up the children as a sacrificial pawn when he had already forfeited his king. Evelyn forced the chunks of food rising in her throat back down. She would not let this man take anything from her, not even the cheap spam she had eaten for dinner.

"You sick, pathetic son of a bitch." Evelyn saw a look of sheer, unadulterated hatred in Max's eyes. He dropped his knife on the ground and reached behind him to grab the SIG-Sauer he had tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He switched off and cocked the gun. "I swore to myself a long time ago that I would never enjoy killing a man, but this sure as hell is going to be the closest I ever get."

The sound of a gunshot ripped through the salvage yard, echoing and reverberating against the metal of the cars. It was that echo that prevented Evelyn from knowing the source of the shot and it was several moments before she realized that it had not originated from Max's gun. Her hand went to her mouth to stifle a scream as Max crumpled to the ground.

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Evelyn bit her fist until the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to run to Max's side and make sure that he was alright, that he was alive. But she knew she couldn't there was someone else in that salvage yard. She had to hang back, Max would kill her. If he was still alive to do so. Evelyn felt every muscle in her body clench. Max, was still alive. He couldn't not be. He was Batman, and Batman never died.

She heard gravel crunching under another pair of boots and a shadowed figure appeared from behind another stack of rusted car frames, a shotgun resting on its shoulder. As it moved closer to her she could make out grey hair, thick eyebrows. It was Mr. Greene, that girl Tessa's dad. Evelyn now felt justified what she previously thought was an unwarranted hatred of that family. They had always seemed like an opportunistic pair. It turned out that they were, just on a more nauseating level than Evelyn could ever have anticipated.

"Alright, boss?" Mr. Greene inquired, approaching Clayton.

"Been better, Greene, but it's nothing a drink wouldn't fix. Just kill this bastard and get me out of these fucking restraints. We'll just drag him out into the woods and blame it on a skitter patrol or something. It shouldn't be hard to convince the rest of the camp. He and that red-headed bitch always were reckless. We should probably deal with her too. She'll be a problem if he goes missing."

"Aye-aye, captain."

A plan popped into Evelyn's head, one of those half-assed ones that she was so good at coming up with. The ones that, on paper, seemed like they would end in disaster, but in practice ultimately ended up working out. She crept around that crappy station wagon and stealthily climbed up on the trunk. She waited for Greene to move into position.

Max had pushed himself up into the sitting position against the side of a burnt out PT Cruiser. He reached for his handgun, but Clayton had managed to kick it out of his reach. Evelyn saw dark red liquid staining the forest green fatigues he always wore. He seemed to have resigned himself to dying right there. Evelyn ground her teeth together. That was absolutely unacceptable. Max looked between the two traitors with a dark smile on his face. "I'd say go to hell, but that seems to be a guarantee at this point, doesn't it boys."

Greene moved before Max. He stood only about 7 feet in front of the nose of the car Evelyn was crouched on. The old man gave a dry laugh that made Evelyn's blood boil in anger. "Send us a postcard when you get there, Huertas. Just to let us know what the weather's like down there." Greene began to lower his shotgun to bring it level with Max's head. That's when Evelyn made her move. She quietly brought herself to her feet and sprinted the length of the car. Greene didn't even have a chance to turn around before she launched herself onto his back.

Greene stumbled, trying to keep his balance. "What the h—"

Evelyn cut him off by bringing her right arm around his neck so that the crook of her elbow was right under his jugular. She braced her hand on the back of his head and contracted her arm so that it squeezed in on either side of his jaw. She was cutting off the blood flow to his brain, just like the skitter had done to her a little more than a month ago. Her blood was rushing in her ears. She could vaguely hear Max shouting obscenities in the background, but she couldn't understand exactly what it was that he was saying. It was like listening to someone talk while you're under water. Greene struggled against her, at first simply grabbing at her arm, but he couldn't shake her. Adrenaline had turned her arm into a vice grip. There was no way she was letting go. She felt her back collide forcibly with a column of cars behind her, crushed between the steel and Greene. He moved forward a bit and slammed backwards again, this time with more force. There was a sickening crunch as she felt at least two of her ribs fracture, but she still didn't let go. Max had always said that she was too stubborn.

Greene was fighting a losing battle. She felt his efforts to extricate himself from her grip become weaker and weaker. Eventually he fell to his knees, and his attempts to shake her stopped. She held on for another minute just for good measure, to make sure he wasn't faking. She released Greene and walked towards Clayton, still tied to the lamppost. He was staring at her, completely speechless and with fear in his eyes.

She stood in front of him and grabbed Sherlock from where he was slung over her shoulder. Her voice dripped with pure, unmitigated contempt. "You're my bitch now, Clayton." She brought the butt of her gun down, hitting him hard on the forehead and knocking him back into unconsciousness. Blood from the abrasion where she hit him covered the little peace sign she had carved.

As soon as Clayton lost consciousness, Evelyn lost her bravado. She was in serious pain from the cracked ribs. She undid Clayton's belt, removed it from the loops of his jeans, and ran to Max as quickly as possible. As she suspected, he was bleeding profusely from his left leg. She slipped Clayton's belt around Max's upper thigh and pulled as hard as she could.

"You know, Max," she panted out between exhausted breaths, "This is why we can't go nice places. Look at the state you're in." That state was not good. Small pellets of buckshot had ripped their way through the muscle of his leg, nicking and shredding many blood vessels.

Max just glared at her with anger, disappointment, and only the slightest hint of relief. "What are you doing here, Lyn? You could have gotten yourself killed."

"I'm not the one with a leg filled with lead, Max. Hold this tight—" She thrust the end of the belt into Max's hand. "And what I'm doing here is saving your life." Evelyn pulled out the knife in her boot and cut away at the fabric of his fatigues to assess the damage. As she looked down at the carnage, she knew exactly what she had to do. And it made her sick.

"I need to get you a better tourniquet to slow the bleeding until I can patch you up." She searched the surrounding area until she found a crowbar. She then grabbed the shirt from Clayton's unconscious figure and returned to Max. "This should do it." She brought the shirt, soaked in the water from a nearby puddle to strengthen the fabric, and then brought it up to just above where he was holding the belt. After tying the arms of the shirt together, she slipped the crowbar through and twisted it as tight as possible, doing her best to ignore the grunts of pain emanating from Max as the cloth bit into his skin. Evelyn let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding in. "Ok, Max. I need to go get some medical supplies so I can fix you up. Take the crowbar and do NOT loosen it. Not for anything. I don't care if it is the most agonizing pain you have ever felt, do not let go of the crowbar." Evelyn handed him the SIG-Sauer he had dropped. "They try anything, you have my permission to shoot them. Don't move. I'll be right back ."

Max let out a bitter laugh. "Where the hell would I go?"

Evelyn stood up, trying not to let the pain of her cracked ribs show. Greene was starting to stir, so as she walked by she bashed him in the head like she had Clayton. He wasn't getting up any time soon.

Max's leg was in bad shape. Evelyn knew what she had to do. She just hoped he wouldn't hate her for it.

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Everything necessary to save Max was in that Dodge pickup they always used when going out on supplies runs. It was parked about 250 meters from the warehouse. As Evelyn back towards command, the adrenaline that had been keeping her going was beginning to wear off. The pain of her ribs became that much more potent, and the reality of the predicament she was in began to sink in. She had to get those kids out of the 7th Mass, and she had to do it tonight.

Evelyn took one moment to catch her breath. She leaned her hands against a car, looking at the ground and trying not to hyperventilate. Suddenly she couldn't hold down her dinner any longer. She retched, small tears forming at the corner of her eyes as she felt the acid contents of her stomach rising up her esophagus. The contracting of her stomach muscles sent a stabbing pain through her abdomen. She used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe at the corner of her mouth.

Evelyn panted heavily, mentally giving herself fifteen more seconds before she continued on her way to the truck. As she was counting down, she felt a hand rest on her shoulders. She opened her eyes and saw the hulking shadow of the person standing over her. The reaction was immediate. She dropped to the ground and extended her right leg to sweep those of her attacker. There was a loud thump as the person dropped to the ground. Evelyn spun around, planted a foot solidly on the person's chest, and brought the knife she had tucked up her sleeve to their throat.

"Evelyn?" Oh, shit.

"Teddy?" Teddy couldn't be in on it. He couldn't be part of it. Right?

"Are you going to let me up?" he asked with genuine confusion in his voice. But at this point Evelyn wasn't willing to leave anything to chance. Chance was the reason Max was bleeding in the dirt right now.

"That depends," she said coldly. "Are you going to tell me why you're out here right now?"

Teddy furrowed his eyebrows and kept glancing nervously at the knife pressed against his jugular. "I was looking for you." It almost sounded like a question.

"Who sent you?"

"I sent me. I had to pee and didn't hear you snoring so I went to check on you. You're sleeping bad was unzipped and your pack and gun were gone. Then I saw the drag marks and got really worried. Evelyn, what's going on? Are you in trouble?" He then managed to see past the knife and glanced at her hands. "Oh, shit is that blood. You need help, I'll go get a med kit if—"

Evelyn stood up and removed her foot from Teddy's chest. "It's not my blood, it's Max's." She lowered a hand to help him up, and then took two steps back, eyeing him warily.

Teddy remained silent for a few moments. Then he did something Evelyn never expected he would do.

He yelled at her. "Evelyn what the FUCK is happening in this regiment! I'm not the fucking village idiot! Just because I smile all the time doesn't mean that I don't notice that something really goddamn serious is going down and I'm tired of being shut out of it, especially by you! I know Max is the only person you trust, but that doesn't mean he's the only one who's trustworthy!"

Evelyn put a hand on his chest, effectively stopping his outburst. "I trust you Teddy," she whispered.

He blinked a few times in surprise. "Y-you do?"

"Yes, I do. But I can't stand here and talk. I need your help."

He just nodded in response. They both ran to the truck while Evelyn explained in hushed tones everything that she and Max had figured out. Teddy remained silent throughout, his eyes growing wider and wider as she dug further into the story. They finally arrived at the car. "Teddy, we need to get those kids out of here, but I don't have a plan. I don't know ho—"

"I do."

"What?"

"I found a school bus on the outer edge of salvage yard. I figured we might need to move out quickly one of these days, so I fixed it up. It's good to go. Full tank of gas and everything. You go save Max, I'll get the kids out. The ones without family all sleep in the same place anyway. Just be sure to bring him to the Eastern perimeter."

Evelyn looked up into his eyes. A feeling of relief and gratitude flooded through her body. "Teddy, I don't know how I can—"

Teddy cut off her offer of thanks. "Shut up, Evelyn. We need to get to work." He ran towards the warehouse. She watched him for a few moments and then sprung into action. She looked into the bed of the truck and grabbed the axe, the bourbon, and a can of gasoline, then running to the motorbike that was parked nearby. She kicked it into gear and sped through the labyrinth of cars to get back to Max.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Evelyn finally arrived back at the scene no more than fifteen minutes later. Max was sitting there, still holding onto that crowbar, but his face was ashen. Whether it was from pain or from blood loss, she couldn't tell. She pulled the bike over, kicking a wave of dirt over the still unconscious body of Greene. She leapt off the bike, grabbed the can of gasoline and poured it on the ground, lighting it on fire and placing a nearby hubcap on top of it.

"What the hell are you doing," Max said in a voice thick with pain.

"It's for cauterizing the wound once I'm done." She took the axe out of her bag and looked at him, her grief and regret for what was about to happen etched into her face.

"No. You can't. No, no, no, no—"

"Max, it's you're leg or you're life. The buckshot ripped open most of the major blood vessels in you're leg. It nicked your femoral artery. That shirt and crowbar are the only things keeping you alive right now."

"You're not taking my leg."

Tears threatened to spill out of Evelyn's eyes. Her voice cracked as she tried to speak. "I don't want to do this Max, but I can't just sit here and hold your hand while you die. I need you. Marjorie needs you. So suck it up, princess. We're all getting out of here."

Max hesitated, but eventually nodded his consent. She poured the leftover bourbon over the axe and lit the alcohol on fire to sterilize the blade. "I'd say this hurts me more than it hurts you, but that would probably be complete bullshit."

Max actually laughed at that. He took Clayton's belt, folded it, and put it between his teeth. "All clear," he mumbled. Evelyn nodded and came to his side. There was nothing she could say to improve the situation, so she didn't even bother trying. She just took a deep breath, brought the axe above her head, and then forced it down to the ground with as much strength as she could muster. She couldn't heat Max's screams, all she could hear was her blood pumping. It was a clean break. She grabbed the hacked off bits of Max's fatigues and used them to grab either side of the hubcap. The heat seared her hands, but she ignored the pain, carrying the white-hot chunk of metal and pressing against what was left of Max's leg to cauterize the wound. Throughout the entire procedure, it was as if her consciousness divorced itself from her body. She was looking down at her hands, without actually being in control of them. It was only the pain of the metal burning her palms that brought her back to full awareness. Max was shaking in silent sobs of pain. He was damaged, but he was alive.

Evelyn pulled Max towards the bike and hoisted him onto the seat. She sat in front of him and forced his arms around her waist before she drove off to the rendez-vous with Teddy and the other kids. When she arrived at the bus, she found that Teddy had already safely secured all nineteen kids, including Amy and Marjorie. Most were on the bus already, but some were still milling around outside. When they pulled up, Teddy emerged from behind the bus.

"Hey Ev— Holy crap! What happened to him?"

"Field amputation." Evelyn couldn't make herself say anything else as Teddy helped her drag Max's weakened body onto the bus. Thank God Marjorie had already fallen back asleep. Amy, however, saw his limp figure and started freaking out. Evelyn grabbed both sides of the twelve-year-old's face and looked her straight in the eyes. "Amy, I need you to be strong for me right now. I need you to be great. The stuff of legends. There are some men, really bad men, who want to trade all of you to the skitters. What I need you to do is go turn on the bus and then sit down and keep everyone calm. Can you do that for me?"

Amy nodded. Her eyes flooded with fierce determination. "The stuff of legends. I can do that." She grabbed Evelyn's hands from her face and gave them a reassuring squeeze before turning to the rest of the kids. "Come on you wimps, let's get a move on! Move, move, move!"

Evelyn smiled faintly and went outside to help Teddy round up the rest of the kids. But just as the coast seemed clear, they heard the engine of another bike approaching. A man with a massive scar through his eyebrow, who she recognized as one of Clayton's goons, sped around the corner. His gun was already poised to shoot, and it was pointing straight at her. "You stupid bitch," the man spat. Evelyn went to reach for Sherlock, but she had left him in the bus. "You could have lived too, you know. Everyone eighteen and over. But you bought yourself a one-way ticket to hell." He cocked the gun and pulled the trigger. Evelyn shut her eyes. She heard the loud bang and waited to feel the hot lead of a bullet tearing through her chest.

But impact never came. Evelyn opened her eyes to see Teddy there, facing her. He looked into her eyes and gave a slight smile. She thought he was about to say something, but all that came out of his mouth was blood. His body collapsed against hers. Over his shoulder she saw the Clayton's man taking aim again, but this time she had a chance to respond. She slipped the knife out of her shirt sleeve and threw it, embedding it in the man's neck.

Evelyn hauled Teddy's body into the bus. Max had managed to drag himself into the driver's seat. Even missing a leg and over a liter of blood he could save the day.

"DRIVE! GO, GO, GO!"

She felt the bus lurch forward and she laid Teddy out in the space between the seats. She peeled away his shirt to observe the damage. She sucked in a breath. "You're going to be OK, Teddy. I got you."

Teddy unleashed a gurgling laugh that turned into a cough. "Don't lie, Evelyn. It was a stomach shot. Even I know what that means." He was right. His stomach had been torn open and the acid was leaking into his abdomen. He was going septic.

"Don't think like that. We'll find a way. I'll—"

"I love you." Evelyn's eyes snapped to his. "I know you think I shouldn't, but it's not really something you can help, you know? I love you, I really do. I have for a while. Wish I had mentioned it sooner. But you always think you have more time, don't you?"

Tears formed in Evelyn's eyes, clinging to her eyelashes and falling on Teddy's chest. "I love you too."

Teddy smiled at her. "No you don't, but thank you for saying so."

Evelyn shook her head, blinking away more tears. "I should have done. I really should have."

He actually laughed at that. "Damn straight, you should have. I'm a catch—"

Evelyn cut him off by crashing her lips into his. She cradled his face in her hands and stayed there until he responded. Teddy pulled her further in, burying his hands in her hair. His lips were cold against hers, but they moved almost frantically. When they finally pulled apart they were both breathless, Teddy from the effort of the kiss and Evelyn because she was still crying. Her first real kiss, and it had tasted like death.

"Glad I got to do that at least once." And then Teddy died like he had lived: with a smile on his face.

**That chapter was really difficult to write. I was initially going to kill off both Teddy and Max, but I just couldn't let them both go. I actually cried on my keyboard a bit.**

**The 2nd Mass will appear at the very end of the next chapter.**

**R.I.P. Teddy. He was a good man, but unfortunately those are usually the first ones to go.  
**

**P.S. I am an avid viewer of youtube fanvids and stumbled across this fantastic one for Maggie. She is my absolute favorite character in the series, so she will be playing a significant role in my story (though she and Hal won't be romantically involved, for obvious reasons). Anywho, you should watch it.  
**

** watch?v=AVaZewutCHU&lc=wb6HW46wx2B-x09usR8rCJ_0QQIDdpz6XgR3TQL1jeI&lch=email_reply&feature=em-comment_reply_received**


	9. Somebody That I Used To Know

**Disclaimer: Still don't own 'Falling Skies," just my OCs.**

Chapter 9 – Somebody That I Used To Know

Evelyn never really had trouble sleeping after the invasion. Before the giant alien insects from hell had landed and wiped out most of the population, she was an insomniac. Her nights were spent with the Home Shopping Network, being bombarded with images of terrifying clown figurines and Snuggie infomercials. So what had changed in the interim? Knowledge. Before the invasion Evelyn had always felt that there was something to be afraid of, something that went bump in the night. She just didn't know what it was, and for her uncertainty was fear. When she could put a face to the threat, she slept like a baby. But after everything that happened in the 7th Mass, after what Clayton and after Teddy, there was no peace of mind any more. The threat could come from anywhere.

The Starbucks where she sat had been completely decimated. The windows were shattered, coffee grounds were everywhere, and Norah Jones CDs littered the floor. But there was an eerie calm to the scene, like that which follows a tornado, a hurricane, a hipster stampede, or some other equally destructive natural disaster. Before all of the sirens and the construction crews there's that moment of silence, the peace in the chaos, like that was what the world was actually supposed to look like. After all, entropy was always easier than order.

Evelyn was at the only upturned table, a map of Shirley, Massachusetts spread over the smooth surface. Her hand, covered in fingerless gloves to hide the burn scars she suffered during Max's amputation, hovered above the chart. It held a sharpie poised to write, its cap secured between her teeth. But Evelyn was staring into the distance, looking without seeing. This had always been her favorite time of day, that period in the afternoon that's not quite sunset where the rays of the sun seem to turn everything this yellow color that made normal objects glow from the inside out. The light that slanted into the building caught the broken glass, making it glitter like the ocean on a summer afternoon. It threw into relief the dust particles that swirled around her. Evelyn sat there motionless for a few minutes, fiddling with the dog tags around her neck. She now wore three pairs: her own the pair Max had given her for her birthday, and Teddy's. She had impulsively and frantically scratched the imprint of '7th Massachusetts Militia Regiment' off of her own, but she had left Teddy's intact. She shook herself back to attention and turned to her work. She needed some decent sleep, but she could sleep when she was dead.

Evelyn continued to mark up the map. She was making notes of the positions of the skitter forces as well as areas with resources. There was no way she was sending kids out on supplies runs without being damn sure that they were safe first. The detention center where they were staying had the stockpile of food, gas, and guns she and Max had been developing, but they weren't exactly expecting to have 19 hungry, growing kids with them. They needed to restock. And with Max out of commission, Evelyn was working alone.

Admittedly, she enjoyed her solitary jaunts quite a bit. It was a respite from the chaos of her new group. Max had sunk into a deep depression since the amputation, shutting himself off from her and even from Marjorie. When he looked into her eyes, Evelyn could see the blame and the bitterness emanating from his. She had taken from him the one thing he treasured more than anything, more even than his life. She had taken away his independence. With Max unwilling and unable to step up (God that was a terrible pun), Evelyn had, purely by virtue of her older age, been thrust into the position of leader. She was their commander by default, and it was a position that she had never even considered, let alone wanted. But still, she was the one who had to keep things together. And thank God for Amy. That little girl, who had only just turned thirteen, kept Evelyn from falling apart. She was the enforcer, the one who could keep the littlest kids in line when they started to get angry or scared. Evelyn was never good with children. When considering them, the first modifier that came to mind was 'sticky'. But Amy had a way with the little people. She was a huge asset.

The map had been divided into nine sectors, and she was categorically scouting each of them. She was currently assessing the condition of sector five. Sectors one, two, and four were all clear of skitter activity, but only two of the three had viable supplies sources. The Sams, those fourteen-year-old fraternal twins she and Max had saved from the skitters, would be going out on a run the next day, specifically looking for food, gas, and mechanical parts, and she could hopefully find another source for them to exploit. Most of her work she did on foot, identifying bottlenecks and locations for potential ambushes, either by the skitters or by the resistance. She left the Starbucks, careful to clear the corners of the alley before exiting. She darted across intersections, using the various chunks of debris to conceal her from potential attackers. She entered a disintegrating auto shop to look for parts. The place was a goldmine. There were enough parts there to fix up at least four of the bike frames they were storing at the base.

Unfortunately, Evelyn wasn't the only person in the store. As she got closer to the back of the store, she saw figures moving. It was a group of harnessed kids, or vegetables as she called them. They seemed to be collecting scrap metal and other types of building supplies. If there was one thing that terrified of in this fucked up world, it was the harnessed kids. It scared her more than the skitters, more than the mechs, more than that strange creature she saw meeting with Clayton, and more than death. It wasn't even the giant slug-creature fused to their spines, it was the blank looks, that look of complete apathy. She had seen that look on so many faces, even before the war. Puppets on strings. When you lose your mind, your will, you have truly lost everything.

Though those kids were the most terrifying thing in the war, they weren't the most deadly. Wherever a troop like this was, there wasn't a mech far away. And low and behold, one appeared in the window just opposite Evelyn. She quickly dropped to floor and scuttled across the aisle to flatten herself against the wall right next to the window. She had to get out of there immediately, before any of the kids informed the mech of her presence. She sprinted to the front of the store, stopping only to grab a box of spark plugs and shove them in her pack. That would take care of two of the bikes. When she got to the exit, she carefully peeked around the corner. Well, shit. In the time she spent scoping out the store, the street in front of it had turned into a fucking extraterrestrial Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. There were at least seven skitters and three mechs out there, no doubt guarding some more vegetables who were on their way for some more conscripted labor.

Evelyn was completely cornered, but she had to get out of that store. She had to get back to base, the kids needed her. She removed Sherlock from his position, slung across her back, so that she could remove her jacket. Mobility and freedom of movement were key if she was going to get herself out of this situation. But why was it that these life-or-death scenarios kept costing her her favorite clothes? She checked Sherlock's magazine to make sure it was full and then hastily stuffed some extra ones in the pockets of her cargo pants. She slung Sherlock back over her shoulder, cocked it, and made ready to run like wildfire. Her motorbike was in the alley behind that burnt-out Starbucks. There was no chance that she wouldn't be seen. The only thing that could save her was speed. And distraction. It was time for yet another impromptu diesel Molotov cocktail.

She stealthily searched for a gas canister. Once she found one she ripped the sleeve off her discarded jacket, shoved it down the nozzle of the canister, and lit the end on fire. She crawled back to the window where she had seen that mech and threw the canister through the plate glass. Evelyn returned to the exit and waited for the opportune moment to flee. Out of habit, she whispered the countdown she and Max had shared. "Tick…tick…boom." The explosion went off, shattering the windows of the store. Evelyn took that as her cue to leave. She burst out the front door and made a beeline to the overturned Honda she remembered from earlier, ignoring the sounds of mech bullets whizzing by, far too close for comfort. The first time Evelyn had tried to evade enemy fire, all she could think about was the scene from that movie 'The In-Laws.' Peter Falk and Alan Arkin were trying to avoid sniper fire, and the just kept yelling "Serpentine!" So Evelyn had run, weaving backwards and forwards, making herself into a gigantic target. Max had just laughed and called her an idiot. Needless to say, she always ran in a straight line after that incident.

From her position behind the car, she could see the skitters advancing on her, with the mechs not too far behind. She took a few shots with Sherlock, aiming for their legs and trying to thin their numbers before she leapfrogged to the next barricade. Evelyn was all out of clever ideas. All she could do was run. And run she did, straight into the alley where her bike was parked. She positioned Sherlock across her back, lowered the goggles she always wore while biking to cover her eyes, kicked the bike into gear, and sped off, dodging all the debris that covered the road way. She could hear explosions all around her and could feel its shrapnel ripping into the flesh of arm, but she didn't stop until she got back to base.

She rode up to the heavy gate that guarded the prison. "Password," a child's voice demanded from above, to which her response was, "Shut up and get out of my way."

"Password accepted." The gate opened slightly and Evelyn sped through. As she entered the rec room where everyone spent most of their time, she dropped her pack and gun, which fell to the ground with an unceremonious clanking noise. "Sector five was a bust." Then Evelyn strode out of the room without another word.

About ten minutes later, Amy walked into the medical bay to find Evelyn sitting alone in her cargo pants and her sports bra, trying to rewrap her fractured ribs and applying disinfectant to the cuts she had sustained on her latest scouting mission. "I knew you'd be here."

"Congratulations, you've won a cookie."

Amy ignored the jab and simply walked up to Evelyn. She removed Evelyn's hands from the tape and began to wrap up her ribcage, never uttering a word. That girl could be annoying as hell sometimes, but she really could read a room.

Later that day, Evelyn found Max in the prison gym. He was just sitting in a wheelchair staring at his mutilated leg, as if willing it to grow back. She sat down next to him, not saying anything. What happened next was what always happens when you shove two equally stubborn, emotionally unavailable people into a room to talk about their feelings. Nothing. Neither of them spoke a single word. There was no more banter, no more joking. Maybe the 7th Mass was the last straw, Evelyn thought to herself miserably. Maybe they were broken beyond repair.

It was a full twenty minutes before Max even looked at her. "I here sector five was a bust." Evelyn simply nodded in response.

"You OK?" Again, she just nodded.

Another fifteen minutes passed. "I don't blame you , you know."

This caught Evelyn's attention. Her eyes snapped to his face searching out his, but he was still looking down at the space where his leg used to be. "That's funny, because I do."

"You saved my life, Lyn." He hadn't used the nickname since they had arrived at their new hideout. "I know I'm useless, but at least I still have a pulse. I might not be grateful for what you did right now. I might not be grateful for it for years. But I will be someday. At least I think I will."

After that, Evelyn couldn't hold back the flood of words forcing themselves out of her brain and into her mouth. "Shut up."

"What?"

"Just shut up, Max. I knew you were an idiot, but I didn't think you were stupid. Clearly I was wrong."

Max finally looked at her. It was the first time in a full week that the two of them actually made eye contact. "If you want to be useless, Max, you should have to roll yourself off the fucking observation tower, 'cause that's the only way you'd make that happen. You may be a cripple—" he winced at the words.

"Stop it. You may be a cripple, but you are still the most valuable resource this team has. You just haven't been able to see it through all the moping."

Max actually wheeled the chair around to face her. His expression spelled disbelief.

"Don't look at me like that, Max. You may not be able to fight, but you can damn well make sure everyone else can. Hell, you trained me." Evelyn pulled out the dog tags he had given her not more than a week ago. "Before I met you I was a kid who played piano, danced ballet, and was about to break all the bones in her hand hitting a bag filled with sand. Before I met you I survived by hiding in corners like a scared little mouse avoiding the great big cat. I would have died twenty times over by now if you hadn't trained me, and that is something you can do for every kid here. There isn't a single one of them who doesn't want to fight. I found Marjorie in here two days ago, kicking that punching bag like candy would fall out if she kept at it long enough." Evelyn stood up and placed her hands on the armrests of his chair, bringing her eyes level with his. "Stop brooding, Max. You're the only thing stopping you from being useful."

Evelyn straightened and walked towards through the exit. She then leaned back through the door frame with a smile on her face to deliver one more parting shot.

"Suck it up, princess."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

In the weeks following that encounter, it was as if some evil scientist had had their way with Max's brain. He shifted from apparent despair to irrepressible enthusiasm. He quizzed, drilled, and trained the kids to the point of exhaustion. The Sams kept volunteering to go on supplies runs, and Evelyn was entirely convinced it was to avoid hearing the phrase 'drop and give me twenty' one more time. She remembered the days when that those words alone gave her an inherent desire to punch someone in the face. But, for the most part, the kids were incredibly enthusiastic about their training. Given enough time, every single one of them would earn the title 'badass'. At the end of the day, physical exhaustion gave them all a feeling of intense satisfaction. They had accomplished something.

For the most part, Evelyn recused herself from the obstacle courses and drills that had been set up in the gym. Max would sometimes make fun of her for her lack of participation, to which her response was usually, "Go wax yourself off, Miyagi," or some derivation thereof. Evelyn was now confronted with the logistics of command, and, as she discovered, they could be intensely boring. It required stuff like inventory and cooking. Leading was difficult, especially when 70% of your troops were under the age of ten and lacked both basic math skills and the ability to work a stove. Amy was the one who established guidelines for basic education, reading, math, etc. She was a born teacher, and she was a hardass. She gave out homework and everything, just to be able to assess progress. Evelyn had two second-in-commands: a thirty-something ex-marine and an orphaned thirteen-year-old. This was a funny world they lived in.

The only downside of Max's training was that it made all of the kids more and more anxious to enter the fray. Unfortunately, that kind of eagerness, the eagerness to prove yourself, can prove a death sentence for some. There was this one kid, Steven. He was a fantastic shot and great in hand-to-hand combat, but when he went out with the Sams on a supplies run, he never came back. He had single-handedly tried to destroy a patrolling mech with a handgun. It was then that Evelyn learned that handing guns to newly trained teenagers made them feel like they were playing 'Halo' or 'Call of Duty', but in real life you can't re-spawn and start over. Steven was the first man that Evelyn had lost in this war. It was the first time she had so keenly felt that she was responsible for the lives of others. It used to be tragic when a compatriot lost their life to the war, but now everything, every single death, every single night they went hungry, it was always her fault. And guilt was a pretty strong motivator to do better.

Life had fallen into a fairly stable pattern. One day Evelyn would scout one of the nine established sectors. If that sector was clear, the following day the Sams would scour the area for supplies. Amy would handle the basic level book learning. Max would handle combat skills and readiness, or work on rebuilding the bikes when the necessary parts were found. The other kids would take turns at the safer, more basic jobs like cooking, latrine duty, or keeping watch (after a few weeks they were all decent shots). It almost became normal. But even thinking that kind of jinxes the situation, doesn't it?

The sound of a truck echoed up the walls of the former prison. Evelyn pried apart the slats of the blinds and looked out the window. She let out a laugh that bordered on gleeful. Samantha and Samuel had headed out to look for supplies three hours ago, and they came back with a freaking moving van. She heard a faint cry of "shut up and get out of my way" from the gates below. Evelyn managed to make it down to the courtyard just as the truck was being opened. Inside there were not only a multitude of cans, but three bikes and at least eight canisters of gas. "Are these operational?"

An impossible huge smile spread over Samuel's face. "Completely."

Evelyn turned around to face the group of kids that had assembled around the truck. "Ok, this calls for a celebration. Troops, we're breaking into the Twinkie supply." After that little announcement, there was a round of cheers. Promise sugary treats, and joy will follow.

Later that night, at dusk, most of the kids were passed out from a Twinkie-related sugar crash. Evelyn was contemplating joining them until she heard a disembodied voice coming from her pocket. It was the crackling noise of the walkie-talkie Marjorie had found while exploring all the tiny corners of the complex. "—Bird's Nest to Mama Bear, Bird's Nest to Mama Bear. Come in, Mama Bear, do you copy? Over."

Evelyn lifted the transmitter to her face. "This is Mama Bear. I copy you, Theo. What's the situation? Over."

"We have a bogey approaching the gates."

Evelyn furrowed her brows. Once they had arrived at the prison, they hadn't been confronted by any other living being. "Animal, vegetable, or mineral?"

"None of the above, Mama Bear. It looks like a car with a 50 caliber bolted to it two guys on bikes. Looks like humans. Over."

Evelyn sucked in a nervous breath. There was a time that she would have welcomed the sight of other survivors, with precautions, of course, but now all she felt was suspicion and dread. "OK, Bird's Nest. Get the snipers into position, but wait for my command. I'm going to go meet our new guests."

"Will do, Mama Bear. Over and out."

Evelyn grabbed a jacket and pulled the hood over her face. She wouldn't give these guys, whoever they were, the benefit of knowing just how old, or rather how young, she was. She grabbed her shoulder harness and fitted it with her Berretta and Max's old SIG-Sauer. Finally she grabbed her trusty Sherlock and moved out into the night.

As she got to the front gate, the men were trying to make their way through the gate with bolt cutters and crowbars. Evelyn snorted. Good luck to them. This was a super-max detention center, those bars were solid titanium. She waltzed up to the fence with Sherlock leaning on her shoulder as much swagger as she could possibly muster. She loudly cocked her gun and shouted at the top of her lungs. "How can I help you gentlemen on this fine evening?" The headlights of the car were blinding. She couldn't really see anything behind them, but she had no intention of letting the newcomers know that.

"Good evening," came a voice from beyond the fence. It carried a slight Boston accent and dripped with authority. He stood in front of the headlights, throwing his profile into relief. It showed a baseball cap and a short ponytail. She could tell by his posture that he was an army man. It was the same posture Max had before he was relegated to a wheelchair and crutches. Everything about him spelled military. This guy was the commander. No question.

"I'd say 'take me to your leader', but seeing as I'm already talking to him that would be a little redundant, wouldn't it?" The man shifted on his feet. Evelyn smirked. She had surprised him. "So I ask again, what is it exactly that you want?"

"I believe you and yours took something that belongs to my unit."

"You're unit?"

"The 2nd Mass." Evelyn immediately pulled Sherlock from his resting spot on her shoulder and aimed it directly at the man's heart. She heard the sound of at least eight other weapons being cocked, presumably aimed at her. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow your roll there, sweetheart. There'll be no need for that. We're resistance fighters. We're combating the skitters."

"Oh, I'm perfectly familiar with the 2nd Massachusetts Militia Regiment. You see, me and mine had a bit of a run-in with some friend of yours. Didn't much agree with their tactics."

The man scratched the back of his head. "How do you mean?"

"Well, _commander_, exactly how well did you know one commander Terry Clayton of the 7th Mass?" Evelyn could have sworn she heard angry muttering and harsh whispers coming from the car in the distance.

The army man dug his foot into the dirt below him and began to push it around. This clearly was a topic he was troubled by. "Well enough to have once called him 'friend', well enough to have been betrayed by him. None of that really matters now. He's dead."

Evelyn started. That was something she had not expected. "He's dead?"

"As a doornail. One of my men shot him. Straight between the eyes. As far as I know there's no coming back from that."

Evelyn shook her head, trying to assimilate this new information. "Well that's a shame."

"Pardon me saying miss, but how'd you figure that."

The answer was already on the tip of her tongue. "Simple. I wanted to unload six rounds of buckshot into his mangerines before he met his untimely doom." After that little outburst, Evelyn was positive she heard someone laughing.

"OK, commander. You say we took something of yours. Pardon me if I don't take your word at face value. I seem to have developed a few trust issues over the past few months. But I'm willing to call a truce and talk it out. Provided you tell your man at the 50 cal to stand down. I'll let you through the gate. Just you. And you can bring a weapon, but you sure as hell better keep it lowered."

The man squared his shoulders against the oncoming light. "Seems reasonable enough. I can agree to that, provided you do the same."

Evelyn nodded her head. "Sure thing, Captain Kangaroo. But be warned, I have at least two snipers with their sights on you and your men. If any of you try any funny business, they will open fire. I suspect your men would do the same if the opposite situation comes to pass." Evelyn opened the gate and let the man in.

He extended his hand to her. "Dan Weaver."

After eyeing it suspiciously for a moment, Evelyn took it and gave it a firm shake. "Evelyn Walsh. Now show me your dogtags, commander Dan." He brought the chain out from under his shirt for Evelyn to inspect. "OK, so what are you missing?"

"Me and my men were on a supplies run, bike parts and the like. We had a moving van all filled up and ready to go. Next thing we know these kids are driving off in it like a couple of joy riding teenagers." She gave Weaver an appraising look.

"Is that so?" Evelyn picked up her walkie and brought it to her mouth. "Mama Bear to Bird's Nest. Come in—"

The machine came to life. "We copy Mama Bear."

"Send down the Sams down please." She turned back to Weaver. "It'll only be a moment."

Sure enough, about a minute, two breathless fourteen-year-olds nearly collided with the two commanders. Evelyn gave them a look that spelled out 'not to be fucked with'.

"So, you two little impotent oafs. Care to tell me why we're in a standoff with a military regiment? Did you steal their supplies?" Her accusations were met with silence, which was an answer in itself. Evelyn raised the walkie one more time. "Bird's Nest, tell your men to stand down. And open the gate for the others."

The gate creaked open and the car and bikes revved to life, bringing them just inside the compound before the gate closed. Weaver waved his men over. They left their bikes and came over on foot. Evelyn turned back to the twins. "So, you little idiots. What is the second rule of this establishment."

The two of them looked sheepish, rubbing the ground their feet and saying in unison, "You can do whatever you want to a man, but do not fuck with his Cadillac." They always did have that weird twinspeak vibe.

"Good, now be a good host and show Captain Weaver where you hid the loot. I apologize for the inconvenience, sir."

"Not a problem." Weaver tipped his hat at her, and then turned to some of the men still approaching. "Cal, Ryerson, follow these kids and pick up the truck."

Evelyn heard a chorus of "Yes, sir" before the two diverted from their path towards the two leaders. The rest of Weaver's men remained on course.

Weaver turned back to Evelyn, stroked at the stubbled beard which grew along his jawline. "So, how old are you exactly? You and the others you've got here? If you don't mind me askin'."

Evelyn readjusted the strap of her rifle on her shoulder. "We've got one adult in the group, but he's crippled. Lost a leg. Other than that I'm the oldest. Eighteen. The rest are fourteen and under. Twenty-one of us in total— wait— fuck, it's twenty now."

Evelyn remover her hood ran a hand through her hair, the course fibers of her glove scratching against her forehead. Weaver looked like he was about to say something else, but he was cut off by a voice about five meters off. "Evey?"

Evelyn whipped around, her hair forming a cloud of red around her face. It had been over a year since anyone had called her that. She made eye contact with a man about forty years old, with brown eyes and scruffy beard. The last time she had seen him he had been clean shaven and there weren't any scars on his face, but she would recognize those eyes anywhere. Her voice wavered a bit as she spoke. Again she was fighting back tears. Only this time they were tears of joy.

"Mr. Mason?"

Evelyn ran at full tilt, throwing herself into his arms. She felt his arms envelope her into a hug and she buried her face into his shoulders and cried. Still hugging her, Mr. Mason picked her up and spun her in a circle, laughing like a little kid who just got an amazing present. When he finally put her down he took her face in his hands, pushing away the hair and wiping off the dirt as if to make sure that it was really her. When he had finally reassured himself, he kissed her on the forehead and stepped back.

Evelyn turned slightly and found herself staring into another pair of almost identical brown eyes. The face she was looking into was colored in shock, and tinged with a little bit of joy. Slowly that face broke into a huge smile. Evelyn felt hers do the same.

"Hi, Evey."

"Hey, Hal."

**So they've finally met up! I tried really hard to make this seem like a viable scenario. I also kind of wanted to underplay the first meeting, and then build on it.**

**Further disclaimer: The line about the Cadillac actually belongs to Tallahassee from 'Zombieland'. I felt like sprinkling references to that movie throughout my story. If you find them you get a cookie (though it will probably be a tracking cookie).**

**Thanks to LMScatterbrain, JDMlvr1, MUSEFAN2307, BookWorm0001, and all my other readers for the support.**

**Please, please, please review.**


	10. Should I Stay or Should I Go?

**OK, the response to my last chapter was freaking AWESOME! Let's keep it up, my ego really appreciates it. Reviews are love, and I bloody love you guys.**

**Anywho, I should probably note that the two groups are meeting up right after the episode 'Sanctuary Part Two'.**

**For photos of my OCs, see my profile page! Just copy the links and delete the spaces.  
**

**Disclaimer: If I owned 'Falling Skies', I wouldn't have a mountain of student loans to pay off. I only own my OCs. If Spielberg wants to pay off my loans for me, I'd be cool with that.**

Chapter 10 – Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Being reunited with the Masons had provided Evelyn with a much needed emotional release. Over the past few weeks, she had needed to keep everything inside, to keep herself together for the kids. In reality, every decision she made, every risk she took, every miniscule action had been slowly eating away at her. If she strayed a millimeter away from the correct course of action, it would have spelled disaster for them. What would have happened to them if she never came back from one of those patrols? If she had died? Compromising her safety was dangerous to everyone, but it wasn't in her nature to let them compromise their own by going out into the field. She wasn't a leader. She had never pretended to be. She had spent so many sleepless nights sitting at the top of the observation tower, her feet dangling over the edge like they used to when she sat in that old oak tree. In the dead of the night, she looked up at the stars and all she could see were her decisions and the consequences they forced on everyone. All she could see were her mistakes. The faces of Teddy and that kid Steven were etched into the night sky like constellations. They're deaths fell on her shoulders. All those slogans that were blazoned across motivational posters, 'keep calm and carry on' or 'hang in there', they were complete bullshit when it came down to the things that really mattered. Evelyn was tired. Responsibility sucked.

Seeing the Masons, though, that had made all the difference in the world. It showed her that there were some things that could never be tarnished, that could never be blemished. The love that existed within that family was a constant. No matter what they suffered, no matter what they lost, they would cling to each other, never to be torn asunder. Not by the skitters, not by anything. Evelyn didn't have it in her to bring up Ben. Not yet anyway. Maybe it was selfish not to try to talk to Hal or Mr. Mason, to try to comfort them in some small, ultimately meaningless way, but she couldn't let go of that moment of happiness just yet. There was a lot of crying and no insignificant amount of hugging, but as things of often go in wartime, emotion reunions must be cut short by logistics.

Evelyn stood alone with Weaver in the empty hallway outside the prison rec room as his men worked their way through the supplies, taking stock of what was available to see if any trades could be made for the mutual benefit of the two groups. The 2nd Mass and the 'Lost Youth of the 7th," a moniker by which many of the kids began to refer to themselves. Evelyn hoped that she and her kids would be able to join with the 2nd Mass, but after what happened with Clayton, she was still wary of command. She needed to get to know Weaver, to take him and put him back together again, to see how his mind worked, before committing herself and those kids to any sort of arrangement. Evelyn glanced through the window of shatterproof glass and she caught sight of Hal sitting next to Amy and Marjorie, playing Texas Hold'em. She couldn't help but smile to herself. Those girls were going to take him down, and smile innocently at him while doing it. Tearing her eyes from the scene of domesticity, Evelyn leaned her back against the wall next to the door and turned to Weaver. She prepared to begin the discussion of what to do with children, what would be best for them and all that, but Weaver opened his mouth first.

"Tom mentioned you a few times, his little red-headed neighbor girl."

Evelyn folded her arms and sighed heavily. "Oh, yeah? What did he say."

"He said you were smart. Went to the University of Boston two years ahead of schedule, took his class on battle strategy in the American Revolution even though you were majoring in something science-y."

"Hm. I thought he didn't see me in there. It was a big class and I always sat in the back. Then again I suppose he did grade the papers."

Weaver just nodded. "He also said you were dead. That it was too bad because you were a good kid."

Evelyn snorted. "Well clearly he was wrong on both counts."

Weaver furrowed his eyebrows and stared at her as if trying to bore into her brain. At that moment Evelyn could hear the tapping of another set of boots on the floor. Mr. Mason appeared in the doorframe. "What do you mean by that?"

Evelyn fiddled with the sleeves of her shirt and tapped the toe of her boot on the laminate tiles below her feet. "Just that it's impossible to be both of those things anymore. I'm alive, but I'm sure as hell not 'good' anymore." She stared intently at her hands, unwilling to make eye contact with the man who had been more of a father to her than the one that shared her genetic code. "I've got blood on my hands now. Blood that belongs to skitters and to humans. Blood that belongs to bad men and to good ones. And no matter how much I scrub at my hands, it won't come off. It won't ever come off." Evelyn slowly removed the fingerless gloves she always wore these days and shoved them in her pocket. As she turned her palms upwards she hear both Weaver and Mr. Mason suck in a breath. "See these scars?" she said wiggling her fingers, "This happened a few weeks ago when I hacked off my friend's leg using a blunt fire axe. That guy Max in the chair over there, I did that. His leg ripped to shreds by buckshot from one of Clayton's men, so it had to go. I hacked off his leg and burnt the wound closed using a flaming hubcap. He lost a leg and I walked away with a little burn. Could a 'good kid' do that to someone?"

Mr. Mason put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but it just made her feel dirty. "You did what you had to, Evey. And you saved his life."

At that Evelyn gave out a dry laugh. "I didn't _save_ his life, Mr. Mason. I prolonged it." She began drumming her fingers nervously against her thigh, sure they would hate her for what she would disclose next. "And that's not it. We used to have twenty-one people here. Now we have twenty. There was this kid, Steven. He was gung-ho, ready to take out the skitters with his bare hands, you know. But he was green, he didn't really know what he was getting into. But I sent him out there anyway. I let him go and he never came back, and that's on me."

This time it was Weaver who spoke. "You lost a man. It's terrible, but it happens. I've lost countless men, in this war and others. It never hurts less, but it's not your fault. You'll kill yourself thinking that way."

Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose and looked between the two men. It was odd, having these two grizzled, battle-hardened figures defending the leadership skills of a scared girl who was barely old enough to vote. "Look, I'm not a leader of men, or in this case I suppose it's children. You know how terrible I am with kids, Mr. Mason. They're sticky and they cry a lot and there are just way to many bodily fluids to deal with. I was a terrible babysitter, remember? I once fed Matt Cheez Wizz and marshmallows for dinner just so he would stop crying. Shit, I probably shouldn't have told you that. The point is, I'm barely holding it together as it is. We've got food and weapons, they need more than that. I know basic field medicine, but beyond that I'm completely lost. We're one case of mono away from being wiped out. And on top of that, they all want to start fighting. I've gotten Max to start training them to occupy their time and tire them out, but pretty soon they're going to want more than that and I can't protect them or stop them from trying. Max was a marine, and he's a damn good trainer. They'll be capable fighters with no real outlet. Bottom line, they need to be somewhere more structured, with more adult supervision and a stronger chain of command. I'm not trying to foist responsibility or anything, I just genuinely don't think I'm capable of holding this band of misfits together for much longer. Do you think the 2nd Mass can take the influx?"

Weaver and Mr. Mason looked at each other for a few moments. It looked like a lot of unspoken information was passing between the two. A small smile appeared on Weaver's face. "Well, Tom? What do you think? Should we take them?"

Mr. Mason responded with a casual shrug. "You know me, Dan. I never was good at turning people away. Plus if they're with us they can't steal our stuff anymore."

Weaver nodded definitively. "So it's settled then. But just so you know, Evelyn, you make a great leader. I've talked to those kids, and every one of them would follow you into battle or into peace. Just give it a couple of years and you'll be ready to do it for real."

Evelyn just nodded. There wasn't any real way she knew how to respond to that kind of compliment. Praise usually just made her uncomfortable. "Oh, um. Mr. Mason and, well I guess I should call you 'captain' now, could you not tell anyone about—" She raised her hands, indicating that she was speaking about her burns, before slipping her gloves back on. "I would just rather leave that little piece of my life behind me. Max'll never talk about it and I would prefer if nobody else did either." She couldn't bring herself to mention what those scars reminded her of. When she looked at them she saw the face of the man she had killed. It was justifiable, but it didn't change the fact that she had seen the light go out of someone's eyes and had been the cause of it. When talking to Weaver and Mr. Mason about the blood on her hands, she had been intentionally evasive. Teddy had been the only one to see what she had done, everyone else was already on the bus. So she had kept it to herself.

They both considered her request nodded in assent. A strange look crossed Mr. Mason's face, one that Evelyn couldn't exactly pin down. "Sure, Evey. I won't tell Hal."

"That's not what I—" But Evelyn just let the subject drop.

Weaver moved to enter the rec room with the rest of his men, but paused at the door next to Evelyn. "Oh, and if you _ever_ refer to me as Captain Kangaroo again, you'll be on latrine duty for a week." He continued on to through the door. "Welcome to the 2nd Mass."

Mr. Mason made to follow him, but also paused next to her, a conspiratorial look gracing his face. "Evey, if you keep calling him Captain Kangaroo I'll work latrine duty for you."

"I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Mason."

"Oh, and Evey? You should really call me 'Tom'."

And for the second time that day, Evelyn's face morphed into a huge grin. "I might just do that, Mr. Mason."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Most of the people in the compound, Weaver and his men as well as the kids, were in the process of loading up the trucks, pooling the supplies before moving out. When Weaver had made the announcement that they would all be moving out together, the reaction was exactly what Evelyn had expected: screams of joy and several interjections of "the skitters are going to eat lead!" as well as other less politely phrased war cries. The explosion of frantic activity which followed made Evelyn smile. But in the eye of that hurricane there were three figures that seemed completely unaffected by it all. Hal and Amy were still sitting there playing Texas Hold'em and Marjorie was sleeping with her head on Amy's lap. Evelyn put down the box of clothes she had been bringing out to the trucks and wandered towards the unholy Trinity. Nothing good could come from those three jokers putting their heads together, even if one of those heads was unconscious. As she walked up behind Hal, she could hear them talking.

"So what exactly happened in the 7th Mass? I mean, how'd you guys manage to get away before Clayton tried to give you to the skitters?"

At that question, Amy's head snapped up. Evelyn had never given the kids the full details of the crisis. They had trusted Clayton and his men completely. When you're young you trust easily. But if, in your formative years, you experience such an appalling betrayal from someone you trusted wholeheartedly, it ruins your ability to trust anyone. You just can't let anyone in, they have to be held at an arm's length. Evelyn knew this from experience, and she didn't want it for Amy and the others. She kept them as much in the dark about her interactions with the skitters as she could, at least until they were adequately trained. Otherwise they would go and try to fight, probably getting themselves killed in the process. To avoid being spotted, she sat down behind the foosball table and peeked over her shoulder.

Amy looked at Hal with the expression of someone much older than her actual thirteen years. Her hands clenched, crushing the cards she was holding. "It was Mr. Clayton? Mr. Clayton tried to kill us?"

Hal flinched under the accusing stare he received. "You didn't know?"

Amy shook her head, a quiet rage filling her eyes. Evelyn was worried that this rage would fall on her. She was absolutely certain that the full wrath of Amy was something to be feared. The voice that issued forth from her mouth dripped in bitterness. "Teddy just came one night and woke us all up, saying there were men coming to get us and that we had to leave as soon as possible before they got here. Evelyn never mentioned anything after that, only that she was going to keep us safe." Amy shut her eyes tight, actively trying to either suppress a memory or summon one. "That BASTARD!" Marjorie shifted slightly in her sleep and Amy lowered her voice. "I knew there was something wrong with him, I just knew it." What Amy said next left Evelyn in complete surprise. "Don't tell the others. I don't think they could handle it. A lot of them liked Mr. Clayton and if they knew he did this…..I just think it would be best if they didn't know. There was a reason Evelyn didn't want us to know. And don't let her know that I know. I don't want her to worry about me." Evelyn exhaled sharply. Amy really was a remarkable kid. She wondered what had happened to her to make her so wise. It probably wasn't anything good. Someone with that degree of understanding had lost that childlike innocence that should be preserved as long as possible.

"I won't tell, I promise." Amy gave one short nod and slapped her cards on the floor.

"Four of a kind! Read them and weep, sucker!"

Hal started laughing and Evelyn decided it was time to go say 'hi'. She sat down next to Hal and stretched out her legs. "So how much did the little con artist take you in for?"

He turned to Evelyn with an amused look on his face. Hal always was a good sport. "Well Evey, so far I've been cheated out of three bags of poptarts, a Twinkie, and the next chocolate bar I find."

Amy shrugged her shoulders smugly and said in a singsong voice, "If you can't take the heat, stay away from anything Texas-related."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "At least she didn't take your pants. Theo actually bet his pants and lost. She made him walk back to his buck in his whitey tighties."

Amy straightened in mock outrage. "Hey! It was his idea. And Hal might lose his pants too. They're all he has left to leverage anyway."

Hal snorted. "I'd resent the implication if it wasn't true," he said, standing up. "Unfortunately, it is. And I have to get out here before she sends her enforcers to break my kneecaps." He extended a hand to Evelyn. "You coming?"

Evelyn took his hand and pulled herself up to her feet. "Well, seeing as I have a few outstanding debts of my own, I probably should."

The two of them walked up to the pile of canned foods, each grabbing a box to help load up the convoy outside. "You're both dirty, dirty cowards," Amy shouted at their backs. When Evelyn looked back to glare at Amy she saw Max staring at her with an expression that could only be described as smug.

As they walked out of the building and towards the trucks, an awkward silence fell over them. Evelyn didn't really have anything to say to Hal anymore. They hadn't been friends in the years before the invasion, and frankly knew absolutely nothing about each other anymore. Sure, they had both been overjoyed when they found each other, but at this point that sort of joy can be brought about by anything that reminded you of the time before the world went to hell in a handbasket. Evelyn was having difficulties feeling anything but discomfort. Apparently Hal felt the same way.

He was the first one to break the silence. "Sooooooooooo…how've you been?"

Evelyn laughed. If all else fails, go with a platitude. "I've been good, Hal. I finally managed to cut back on the amount of TV watching, been getting some more fresh air. It's been really great."

Hal gave a facetious nod. "Good to hear, good to hear. I've been doing the same." They fell back into silence, though it wasn't quite as awkward anymore. He shot her a few sidelong glances.

"Hal, if you want to ask me a question, just go ahead and ask it. If I get offended I'll just punch you in the face and we'll call it even."

He barked out a dry laugh and brought a hand to rub the back of his neck like he always did when he was uncomfortable. Some things never change. "It's just that—and don't take this the wrong way or anything—but how exactly did manage? To survive that is. I mean, you never really were that outdoorsy. I know it wasn't by choice, but— I just didn't think that, of all the people I know, you'd be the one I'd run into. Was that offensive? It sounded kind of offensive."

Evelyn considered letting him squirm for a bit, but he looked genuinely afraid that he insulted her. "Un-wad your panties, Hal, I'm not offended. Hell, I'm surprised I made it this long. I didn't really have the best survival training. I mean, what could I do, lull the skitters into submission by playing really mellow piano music? That's not exactly a viable strategy."

"No, I suppose it isn't."

"To answer your question, I ran and I hid."

Hal nodded in understanding. "You always did kick ass at hid-and-go-seek."

"You bet your ass I did. Anyway, after that Max –the guy in the wheelchair, he was a marine— he basically kept me alive. He said it was for my entertainment value. Apparently I am a very sarcastic person with an opinion on everything and quote 'most of them are hilariously wrong'. I would have died like twenty times if he wasn't around. But don't tell him that."

They were worked quietly for a few more minutes before Evelyn could bring herself to broach the topic she had, until then, been so carefully avoiding. But it had to be said. She sat at the edge of the moving van, dangling her legs over the side and clutching the bumper to give herself strength. "Hey, Hal?"

He looked up from a box of canned tuna he was stacking. "What's up?"

Evelyn bit her lip nervously. "I know that there's nothing I can say to make it OK, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry about Ben."

A look of complete confusion crossed his face. "What are you talking about, Evey?"

Evelyn stared down at her lap. She couldn't help but feel ashamed of her failure to save Ben. Tears pricked her eyes. She was crying far too often lately. "I saw him. While I was with the 7th Mass I was about three klicks away from the base, and I saw him and a bunch of other kids. They were getting harnessed and— I wanted to help him, I really did, but—"

She felt a strong hand grip her arm and turn her around. "Evey, Ben's fine."

Her watery eyes met his in a stare of complete disbelief. She shook her head almost hysterically. She just couldn't believe what she was hearing. "No, no. I saw him being dragged to the harnessing station. There were so many skitters. There was no way he could get away. It was impossible. If it _was_ possible then I would've—"

But Hal cut her off before she could finish. "No, Evey. You don't understand. Ben was harnessed, but it was removed. About a month ago there was this doctor who met up with the 2nd Mass—"

Evelyn let out a single incredulous laugh. "Well, I'll be damned. Harris actually pulled it off. I guess I have to respect him now."

Hal was really confused now. "You knew Dr. Harris? How?— Oh, crap. You're the obnoxious, uppity girl who ripped his files to shreds but came out with a few good ideas?"

"You mean he actually gave me some credit? I can't say I was expecting that. So whatever he came up with, it worked?"

"Yeah, it worked. But Evey, you should probably know. Harris is dead. A skitter got him."

The words hit Evelyn like a ton of bricks. She turned away from Hal, looking off into the distance and trying to comprehend what he had said. Knowing that Harris was dead required some readjustment of her worldview. She had never really liked Harris, she couldn't even say that he was a good man. But he had done good things. He had saved her life. He had saved Ben's life. And so she would grieve him. She brought her eyes back up to meet Hal's. "But Ben's OK?"

"Yeah," Hal said with a small smile. "Yeah, Evey. Ben's OK."

"Good."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

A couple of hours later the moving van and Evelyn's crappy Ford truck she had picked up a few weeks earlier were almost packed and ready to go and most of the kids had loaded into the school bus which was still parked at the prison gate. Hal, Evelyn, and Amy were all leaning against the side of the truck. Evelyn was excited about the prospect of joining the 2nd Mass, about being able to actually fight again, about being able to see all the Masons again, about being able to talk to people who had successfully conquered puberty. But there was something she was leaving behind, and someone she had to say goodbye to. She pushed herself off the truck and walked back towards the building before her. "I've got to go see a man about a dog."

Over the sound of the rest of the unit making preparations and the crunching of gravel beneath her feet, she could hear Hal and Amy whispering. "You guys have a dog?"

"Don't be an idiot, Hal. She's going to see Teddy."

Evelyn rounded the corner of the building and walked till she reached that patch of freshly turned dirt. On the wall next to that spot there were words crudely cut into the brick:

Here Lies

Theodore 'Teddy' Isaacson

A Good Man Who Deserved Better

The blisters that had formed on Evelyn's hands while writing those words were still peeling a bit. When she, Max, and the kids had arrived at the detention center, she hadn't let anyone else near Teddy's body. She dug his grave herself. She had never done anything for him while he was alive, but she could do that. Her hands ran across the words, a silent apology for all the damage she had inflicted. She sat down in front of the grave and pulled her knees to her chest.

"Hey, Teddy. Sorry I haven't been to visit you since we got here, but I always was a pretty sucky friend. A pretty oblivious one too. I never really thought anybody could love me, so I guess I never realized that you did. And I'm sorry— God, I'm sorry. You deserved to be loved by someone. Someone a hell of a lot better than me. I'm the worst. I mean, I'm simultaneously needy and emotionally unavailable. What's up with that. You really were an idiot to care about me that way. Look where it got you."

Evelyn shoved her hands into her hair, pulling until it hurt a little. She deserved the pain.

"Fuck, see what I mean? I'm being rude to your fucking grave marker! You deserved someone as good as you, as kind as you, as endearingly awkward as you, not some rude, borderline hostile chick who loves shooting things just a little too much. But there is something nice I came to say, I swear. It's probably the first nice thing I'll say to you." Evelyn took a deep breath and wiped at a few tears that squeezed out of her eyes. "I would've gotten there. I would've loved you eventually. You know, when I stopped being blind and stupid. How could I not?"

Evelyn heard the honking of car horns. When she turned to the direction of the noise she could have sworn she saw a shadow darting away from around the corner.

"Well that's my cue. I've gotta go, and I probably won't be coming back any time soon. So…..thanks."

Evelyn stood up and pulled the dogtags out from under her shirt. She fumbled through the little pieces of metal until she found those that belonged to Teddy and brought them to her lips.

"Bye, Teddy. I'll be seeing you soon enough.

And with that Evelyn turned towards the convoy that was about to move out and walked into the next chapter of her life.

**So there's chapter 10. I hope you liked it. I left Teddy out of the last chapter because Evelyn is a truly emotionally constipated person and doesn't like dealing with these things till the last possible opportunity.**

**Evelyn wasn't on Ben's rescue crew because I am trying to reconcile my story with the actual plot of the show. Clayton died after Ben was saved, so there you go.**

**I'm thinking of writing a sort of father-daughter rapport between Evelyn and Weaver. Do you think that would be a good idea?**

**Also, I've been meaning to ask for a while about how my fight scenes are reading. Do they flow OK? Sometimes I feel like they might not make sense, so I would appreciate input on that.**

**Finally, I still haven't had a chance to re-watch season 1 of 'Falling Skies' (Amazon is taking forever to ship it), so I'm really hoping I've characterized the canon characters correctly. Input is not only welcomed, but encouraged.**

**Thanks for reading and please review!**


	11. Home Is Where You Choose To Be

**Hello all. Here's the next chapter. **

**One reader asked me why I chose to create an OC rather than go with an existing female character, so here's my answer. It's not that I don't like any of the females who were potentially/actually paired with Hal in the show. Karen was awesome, but the harness took her out of rotation. I like Lourdes a lot, but her 'faith' is not something that I can really empathize with. Consequently, I don't think I could really so justice to the character. Finally, I LOVE Maggie. She's my favorite character on the show. Ultimately, I chose to use an OC because I wanted to create something of my own, not just re-hash a pre-existing character which would probably pale in comparison to what the actual writers had done. In conclusion, I'm not writing this fic to fulfill some lovey-dovey vicarious relationship with a cute actor-person. I'm writing this fic because I love a strong female lead that exists independently of a relationship with a guy (I feel like the character of Karen was contingent upon the character of Hal in a lot of ways). I'm writing this because I love banter and witty dialogue and I'm a huge science fiction nerd, but I'm also a bit of a romantic (I've read Pride and Prejudice 13 times; I know, it's a little sad), so there will be a relationship forming. Does that make any sense?**

**Check out photos of my OCs by copying the links on my profile.**

**Also, as I just said, Maggie is a complete badass and she is my favorite character. She and Evelyn have a lot in common, but I hope they don't seem like the same person. QUESTION TO READERS: Am I portraying Maggie accurately? Are Evelyn and Maggie too similar (I don't want their personalites to merge)?**

**Disclaimer: Does it really need saying? I don't own the 'Falling Skies', though I do now own season 1 on DVD!**

Chapter 11 – Home Is Where You Choose To Be

"We should be getting to the school in about twenty more minutes."

Evelyn sat in the passenger seat of her Ford truck with Amy asleep on her lap. She let out a soft snort. Hal studied her face in the rearview mirror. "What's funny?"

"Nothing," Evelyn said in a half-whisper, trying not to wake up the sleeping preteen in her lap. When she was asleep Amy looked completely innocuous, almost innocent. Evelyn almost forgot the mouth she had on her. "It's just that, even in a post-apocalyptic alien invasion scenario, you can never leave high school behind you. It's always there, like a permanent retainer or mouth herpes."

Hal gave her a weird look. "You mean cold sores?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "They're the same thing, Hal. The only difference is that one of them is a euphemism."

At that, Hal burst out laughing. Evelyn punched him in the shoulder. "Shut up and watch the road Hal! We don't want to wake the miniature she-demon."

Hal shoved a fist in his mouth, trying to suppress the sobs of laughter shaking his body. He finally cleared his throat and hastily wiped at his eyes. "Remind me why we stopped being friends?" he said, still a little breathless with laughter.

The question had been asked in jest, but it had a serious answer. Hal seemed to realize this the moment he said it. He immediately sobered, the laughter dying in his mouth. His hands tightened on the steering wheel and focused on the road, actively avoiding eye contact. Evelyn decided to play it off, let him off the hook. She shrugged nonchalantly and tried to affect a casual tone. "It's the age old story. I skipped a grade, my dad got incarcerated, and you got cute."

If she had it her way, that would have been the end of it. Emotional confrontation was never really her thing. She had enough difficulties dealing with her own emotions, let alone anyone else's. But from the expression on his face, she could tell Hal wasn't about to let it go.

"Look, Evey—"

"Save it, Hal. It's not necessary."

"Yes, it is. I knew you were unhappy and I just let it happen. It's not like I was oblivious to it. I saw you sitting alone in the lunch room, head down and playing with your food all the time. I wanted to sit next to you, but with everything my friends were saying about you and your family….I was a coward. Eventually I just got used to it and stopped feeling bad for ignoring you. And I'm sorry. I just wanted to say—"

Evelyn removed her hand from where is rested on Amy's hair and placed it on Hal's arm. His eyes snapped to hers. "Really, Hal. Just shut up. I never held it against you, and I still don't. High school sucks for everyone, even big-time lacrosse jocks, and associating with me would have made it that much worse for you."

Hal wasn't satisfied. "But you had to change schools because of it. Nobody should have to be driven out like that."

It was Evelyn's turn to give Hal a weird look. "I didn't transfer schools, Hal. I graduated. Went to Boston University." She was surprised that Mr. Mason, that Tom hadn't told him.

"You what? You're my age."

"And yet. That's why my head drooped at lunchtime. My brain's just too big."

Hal laughed lightly. "Well you always were a smartass."

Evelyn sighed. "Look, Hal. There aren't enough people left for us to do the awkward song and dance where we avoid each other, make uncomfortable small talk, and then eventually, over the course of several weeks, adopt a healthy dialogue. I'd rather skip the whole process. As far as I'm concerned, alien invasion sort of wipes the slate clean. So I'll resort to that clichéd and overused trope that always seems to work in movies." Evelyn stuck out her right hand. "Hi. I'm Evelyn. I like chocolate chip cookies, long walks on the beach, and watching giant space insects being blown to smithereens."

Hal smiled and took her hand. "Hi. I'm Hal. I also enjoy all of those things."

"So it's settled, then?"

Hal nodded. "Settled."

Evelyn sighed. "Thank God that's over. Do you have any snacks on you? Emotional catharsis makes me hungry."

Hal just laughed and threw her a package of beef jerky. She ripped at the dried up husk of meat with her teeth, in a very unladylike fashion. Hal kept shooting her sidelong glances with his eyebrows raised, clearly surprised at the enthusiasm with which she wolfed it down. When she finished it, she tossed the plastic wrapper out the window.

"That's littering, Evey."

"Send me a fine."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Evelyn absent-mindedly stroked Amy's hair and stared out the window. She leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. She could still see the glow and the almost-full moon through her eyelids. It was strange being able to sleep, or at least attempt to sleep, in a car again. Ever since their arrival at the detention center, Evelyn had always been behind the wheel. In fact, she had had to teach herself how to drive stick shift, killing the engine of an old Honda Civic in the process. Not that anyone would ever know about that. It was a secret she would take to her grave. Evelyn allowed herself to be lulled into a semi-comatose state by the rocking of the truck as it rolled down the road. She let her mind float. This was the first time in weeks that she could put her head down without feeling paralyzed with fear. Tonight she was responsible only for her own fate, and that fate involved sleep.

Or at least it would if Hal would stop drumming his goddamn fingers on the goddamn steering wheel. He did that when he had something to say, even when they were kids. A sort of passive-aggressive way of demanding attention without seeming overly needy. But Evelyn would have none of it. He was going to have to shut up.

"If you have something to say, Hal, just fucking say it. But if you keep up that drumming I'm going to make those fingerless gloves you're wearing fit perfectly."

Hal laughed. "It's just…you think I'm cute?"

"Ugh. I'm actively rolling my eyes at you right now. I think I may have done some damage to my ocular nerve, actually."

"That's not an answer." Evelyn knew there was a self-satisfied smirk covering his face. She could hear it in his voice.

"You're ego is showing, Hal. You might want to cover it up or you'll cause a scandal, and maybe scare some small children. Now just let me sleep. I just need like fifteen minutes."

But Hal was not one to be deterred. "It's OK if you do. I mean, I got a lot going for me."

"Shut up or I'll punch you in the face. I've done it before if you recall. And then you cried like a hungry, angry baby. You're an ugly crier, Hal. Nothing cute about that."

Hal poked her in the shoulder a couple of times. "That's still not an answer, Evey. If it helps I think you're cute too."

Evelyn let out a huge yawn. "There's nothing I love more than being objectified while I'm comatose. That's not rape-y at all. But if it'll get you to let me go to sleep, then yes, Hal, you're a stud. A regular teenage Casanova, breaking hearts and forgetting names." She cracked her eyes open to see him pumping a fist in victory. "Now shove your ego where the sun don't shine and let me get some shut-eye, you needy, needy idiot."

Hal just laughed again, clearly reveling in his victory. She wrapped her arms around the little girl in her lap as if she was a giant pillow and nuzzled her face into the headrest. Then she drifted off into the first peaceful sleep she'd had in weeks.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Evelyn woke up to soft rays of sun slanting over her face. She could see the orange and yellow through her eyelids. She didn't want open her eyes just yet. She was lying down on a cushioned surface with a sheet clutched in her hands, holding it up to her neck. In her semi-slumbering state, she wondered how exactly she had gotten there. She remembered falling asleep in the car and vaguely recalled being carried through the cool night air and placed in a bed. It was the first time she had actually slept through the night since she had left the 7th Mass. That was something she could really get used to. This boded well for life with the 2nd Mass.

At least it did for a while. After a few minutes of luxuriating, not having to worry about crying children or moody teenagers, she felt something hit her in the face. It was a little balled up piece of paper. She actively chose to ignore it. But then came another one. And another one. And another one.

"Ugh, Amy can't you just give me like one day where you're not a pain in my ass." Evelyn rolled over, never opening her eyes. But those little bits of paper kept hitting her in the face. "Amy, if you don't stop that right now, I swear to every deity in the book that I am going to kick your ass so hard you'll have to custom order pants to fit the amorphous blob I leave behind."

But the voice that responded wasn't Amy's. It was lower and raspier, and it was hard, as if it belonged to someone who had crammed far too many life experiences in too short a period of time. "I don't know any Amy, but I'm pretty sure that I could take you."

Evelyn's eyes sprung open immediately. She shot up in her bed and found herself face to face with light brown eyes and long wavy blonde hair. She sat there unmoving for several moments, just to be sure that the person she saw before her was not some hallucination produced by her semi-catatonic state. "Maggie?"

Maggie's lips tugged up at the corners to form a slight smile. It was an expression Evelyn had seldom seen on the older girl's face. It suited her.

"I got a little insubordinate so Weaver decided that, instead of latrine duty, I had to show an obnoxious, snarky red-head around the camp. Should have known it would end up being you."

Evelyn's face remained impassive. "Doesn't seem fair to me. I haven't done anything bad enough to warrant being stuck with an overtly hostile, emotionally constipated blonde with anger management issues."

After a few more moments of standoffish staring, a smile broke out on both of their faces. Maggie leaned over the side of the bed and pulled Evelyn into an awkward hug. "It's good to see you chickadee."

"It's good to see you too, Big Bird," Evelyn mumbled into her shoulder. Evelyn smiled as Maggie tensed. She knew that Maggie hated that nickname, but it had been retribution for the fact that she had been designated 'chickadee'. It made Evelyn feel like the youngest sibling on some 1950s sitcom. But ultimately both girls had come to terms with annoying each other. In fact, though she'd never admit it, Evelyn had come to quite like her nickname. Maggie treated her like a younger sibling. After everything they'd been through together, they might as well be sisters.

About ten seconds into the hug, someone burst into the room. "Hey Dr. Glass, I got some more stuff from the van. Where—"

Evelyn looked up to see Hal backing through the door with a box of supplies. He stopped suddenly when he saw the two girls hugging. A confused look crossed across his face, but he didn't press for information. "Hey, it's about time you got up. It's been what, seven hours since I hauled you in here?" he said, walking to the shelves to stow away the materials hw was carrying.

Evelyn looked at her surroundings for the first time. She was clearly in the medical bay of the 2nd Mass. How did she keep ending up in this position?

"Leave her alone, Hal," came a voice from the corner of the room. The woman who spoke turned from the inventory and walked towards the trio. She was quite pretty, with a round face, long, flowing brown hair, and brown eyes that shone with both tragedy and a sort of maternal kindness. "Lourdes checked her over after you brought her and she's been suffering from malnutrition, dehydration, and severe sleep deprivation."

Evelyn snorted, "Who has time to eat or sleep when you have twenty little monsters running around you at all times. That includes the 36-year-old. When some are asleep, the others are awake, and they always need something." Evelyn rubbed the back of her neck, trying to relieve the subtle ache that had been plaguing her for weeks. "Being the leader of a post-apocalyptic gang of pre-teens has been exhausting."

The woman laughed, "As a former pediatrician, I know exactly what you mean." She stuck her hand out towards Evelyn. "My name is Anne Glass, I'm the resident doctor for the 2nd Mass."

Evelyn took the hand and gave it a firm shake. "Evelyn Walsh, resident smartass. It's nice to meet you."

Dr. Glass smiled. "Likewise. So I hear you have a medical background?"

Maggie turned to Evelyn with a look of surprise on her face, but Evelyn chose to ignore it. "Not really. I've never had any formal training or anything like that."

Dr. Glass pulled up a chair and sat next to Maggie. Evelyn felt like she was staring at a college recruiter. "Well that surprises me. When Dr. Harris was here he told us about how he was able to develop the procedure for harness removal, your use of brain tumors as a model. It was quite ingenious, actually." At the term 'brain tumors', Maggie visibly clenched. Even though she was OK now, what she had gone through still dominated her life to a certain extent. It had become ingrained into her being, like those tattoos she had. One for every operation, commemorating each occasion a doctor had sawed a hole in her skull.

"How did you know Harris was talking about me?" Hal glanced over his shoulder and made a face. Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Never mind. My input didn't really come from having a medical background or anything like that. I just figured that people with lots of experience might be over-thinking it, focusing too much on what they needed to know instead of what we already knew. I just figured the harnesses worm their way into the central nervous system, tumors do too. I raided Harris's medical journals for ideas and voila. I'm not some medical revolutionary or anything. I'm just a sophomore with common sense who took a basic level course in behavioral endocrinology for kicks." Evelyn picked at her nails nervously. She didn't like scrutiny. "Other than that I can stitch people up and a few other things, but anyone who's fixed a rip in their jeans can do that."

Dr. Glass nodded to herself. "Well, I'd like you to consider working with me and Lourdes, my assistant. At least part-time. We could use the help."

Evelyn just nodded. Dr. Glass stood up and returned to her work and Evelyn finally rolled out of bed. "So," she said turning to Maggie, "what does a girl do for fun around here."

Maggie raised an eyebrow. "Well for me it involves shooting at things."

Evelyn sat on the bed and pulled on her boots. "Sounds like a good time to me." She and Maggie walked out of the medical bay. "See you later, Hal."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

The two girls walked down the hallway. "So where are we going first?"

"Weaver wanted to you to meet with him and Tom as soon as you got up to discuss what kind of role you would play in the 2nd Mass. You know scout, fighter, medic, civilian, that kind of thing. Speaking of which, since when do you have medical training. I thought you of all people would avoid that kind of thing."

Evelyn sighed. "I still hate hospitals as much as you do, Mags, but you have to admit that in this kind of situation it's good to have at least basic training in that sort of thing. Especially when you don't trust the people around you."

"Yeah, I know what that's like." It was said in a barely audible whisper, but Evelyn could recognize the pain hidden behind the forcibly nonchalant tone.

Evelyn stopped suddenly and grabbed Maggie's arm. "Mags, what happened?"

Maggie took a single, steadying breath. "I met some guys. They weren't very nice to me. I made sure they'd never treat anyone like that again." Evelyn searched her friend's eyes to make sure that she understood correctly. She could tell by the steeled expression that she wasn't going to get any more details. Not that she wanted any.

"I hope you made them pay."

Maggie gave a cold smile. "I did."

They continued walking down the hallway with the mutual understanding that the topic would never be broached again. They both had that cold-burning anger in them. They had both killed. It was part of them now. But Evelyn sure as hell wasn't going to let what she had done dictate whatever small bit of life she had left in her. And she knew Maggie wouldn't either.

When Maggie and Evelyn reached command, they found Tom and Weaver pouring over Evelyn's map of Shirley, MA. Tom was gesturing over the map. Evelyn could hear words like 'Market Garden' and 'Bloody Gulch'. Evelyn smiled to herself. Ever the history professor. Weaver stood back with a grim expression on his face. It looked like he wasn't exactly enthusiastic about Tom's input. Maggie knocked on the doorframe, interrupting their discussion. "I'll leave you guys to it," she said rounding the corner and leaving Evelyn alone with the two men. Evelyn got the distinct impression that she wasn't on the best of terms with these people. She had never been Miss Congeniality.

Tom looked up from where he had the map spread on the table. "Evey, this is some really good intel. We could do a lot of good with this."

Evelyn shoved her hands in her pockets and looked at her feet. "Thanks, Mr.— Tom. But I'm pretty sure the details on sectors one and two are obsolete. I haven't been there for about two weeks now. Everywhere else should be accurate enough though."

She sat in an open chair and cracked her knuckles nervously. "So what do Captain America and Colonel Hogan want with me on this fine, fine day."

Weaver crossed his arms and growled vaguely. "Now what did I tell you about using those smartass nicknames."

Evelyn smiled slightly as Tom fell into a 'coughing fit'. "You said not to call you 'Captain Kangaroo'. There is a whole host of military pop culture references that I can make use of. If you want to forego amusing nicknames altogether you should be more general in your interdictions."

Weaver huffed angrily, but he couldn't entirely hide the trace of a smile on his face. "No nicknames. That clear enough for you?"

"Sir yes sir," Evelyn declared with an overly respectful tone and an ironic salute. Evelyn could see how these two men could worked together. At first glance, it seemed like a pretty dysfunctional relationship. Weaver was straight-up military. From the looks of him what he wanted more than to hit the enemy head on, do as much damage as possible. A good military commander, but inexperienced with civilians, looking at them as dead weight rather than the future of the human race. Tom on the other hand, could see the bigger picture of it all. He probably wasn't a flexible leader in the field, but all that book learning had made him a good strategist. Evelyn glanced between them. It was pretty clear that they didn't get along, but she was confident that, soon enough, they would see each other's value.

"Good. Now let's get down to business. Now, I don't know how things were organized in the 7th Mass—"

"Poorly."

"Let me finish, girlie. Here in the 2nd Mass, we have a few options for you to choose from. There's scouts, fighters, and civilians. Now, some civilians like Dr. Glass help out with the medical stuff. Now, you seem to by a pretty versatile kid."

"Yup, just call me Pete Rose." Weaver smiled a bit, enjoying her reference to the baseball great.

He gestured at the map. "You're clearly a good scout. You've identified bottlenecks and potential ambush points in better detail than most of the guys I already have working for me. You also seem to have some decent medical skills. I don't know about your weapons training, but you seem to have some fight in you. My question is—what is it that you want to do?"

Evelyn looked at Weaver like he had grown an extra head. She had thought the answer to that question was obvious.

"I want to fight—duh."

**So that's Evelyn's introduction to the 2nd Mass. Sorry this chapter is shorter than the past few, but it seemed like an excellent stopping point to me.  
Also, the line "b****eing the leader of a post-apocalyptic gang of pre-teens has been exhausting" is a re-hash of my favorite line from ep. 2, delivered by none other than Pope (who also ranks among my favorite characters).  
**

**Thanks to everyone for reviewing/following/favoriting. Please do so again. Every time you review, a skitter dies.**


	12. I'm Not The Girl You Used To Know

**Ok, guys. I'm putting on my thinking cap (which is actually just a sock monkey hat; seriously, I'm wearing it at this exact moment) and writing a new chapter. I think this is going to be my last chapter before I start using the actual plot of the show. In it Evelyn will demonstrate her badass-itude to the 2nd Mass.**

**Thank me for having the wherewithal to actually publish, because I just discovered Pottermore and it's really distracting.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Nobody in the 2nd Mass has actually seen that Evelyn can fight. As far as they know, she's just a scavenger.**

**Disclaimer: I TOTALLY own 'Falling Skies'. Wait…..I think my ego's getting the better of me. Sorry, Spielberg. My bad. It's all yours. Not Evelyn though. She's my own personal badass.**

Chapter 12 – I'm Not the Girl You Used to Know

Evelyn hated meeting new people. She didn't really know how to function in novel social situations. Usually she just blamed her social isolation during high school, but every once and a while she wondered if she suffered from Asperger's syndrome. They say that crazy people never really consider that they might be crazy, but in Evelyn's opinion that was complete bullshit. Everybody is there own special brand of crazy. There might be different levels and different types of crazy, but there was definitely no such thing as normal. Especially now. If there was such a thing as a well-adjusted person, they would have died by now. This world required a willingness to kill in adults, and complicity in killing in children. She met this one kid Jimmy who was only fourteen and already a soldier. Not that Evelyn thought everyone left in the world was crazy, just maladjusted to the world as it was, at least to a certain extent. It was like she had read about in all of those freshman-year ecology classes, if an organism was perfectly adapted to a certain environment, then it wouldn't be able to adapt to changing circumstances. Evelyn couldn't really imagine any cheerleaders or trust-fund babies making it through an alien invasion. Then again, she had a trust fund. Not that it mattered now. Apparently Wall Street was having some issues with her investments.

After her discussion with Tom and Captain Weaver, Evelyn had decided to explore the camp for herself. She was a bit overwhelmed by what she encountered. In the weeks immediately following the invasion, she had been completely on her own. She had figured that the alien menace would seek out and destroy the wolf that confronted them, not the meek little mouse that hid in the dark. Now that meek little mouse had learned how to fight, but unfortunately she still hadn't learned how to appropriately handle social situations. So she hid in an empty classroom and contemplated the irony of her situation. If she was suddenly confronted by a legion of space insects and a few highly destructive robots, she was chill as a cucumber. Put her in front of a group of strangers, she would freeze light a baby deer in the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler. She had no idea where to find Maggie or Weaver or any of the Masons, so she went back to the medical bay to find the only other person she knew: Dr. Glass.

Upon returning to the medical bay, Evelyn helped Dr. Glass with the inventory of the influx of new supplies. Evelyn liked Dr. Glass. The woman had a benevolent, maternal quality in her. The perfect mixture of softness and strength. No, wait. That made her sound like a fabric softener commercial. But what Evelyn saw in Dr. Glass was the same quality she had seen in the mothers of her classmates. She had always wished to see it her own mother as well, but she had eventually given up. She and Dr. Glass—or Anne as she had been told to call her—struck a bargain with regards to the role she could play in the medical bay. Though Evelyn's primary occupation would be as a fighter and scout, she would spend her extra time helping Anne and Lourdes with their work, as well as training in more advanced medical procedures. As she had told Anne earlier, she was fine with injuries to the extremities, but when it came to damage to the torso she was completely and hopelessly lost.

Lourdes, Anne's assistant, shared that same quiet strength. They clearly meant a lot to each other. Evelyn couldn't decide whether the bond that they seemed to share was more akin to a mother-daughter relationship or to the dynamic between an older and younger sister. Perhaps it was somewhere in between the two. Evelyn liked Lourdes quite a bit as well, but she couldn't quite understand her. She possessed this unwavering faith in a loving and benevolent God that, in Evelyn's mind, bordered on nonsensical. While Evelyn respected her beliefs, there was no way that she could agree with them. With all the shit that had happened to her, all the stuff she had suffered through, even before the invasion, Evelyn found it difficult to believe in a benevolent deity. If one existed, what exactly had she done to piss him (or her) off? And if life was one big test to get into a giant cloud castle in the sky, why were some people's so much harder than other's? But maybe she was just being selfish and immature.

Lourdes also seemed to be quite taken with Hal, asking Evelyn tons of questions about what he was like in his youth. Evelyn answered them all, without revealing anything Hal wouldn't want told of course. She had to actively keep the smile from her face while talking with Lourdes. It became clear how Hal managed to sustain the high energetic demands of his ego.

"Lourdes, you might not want to pay Hal quite so much attention. It only encourages him."

She could hear Anne laugh lightly from the corner of the room. "That's what I've been telling her."

Lourdes flushed a little. Evelyn felt a little bad for her bluntness. "I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable or anything. I'm just saying that all through high school he wasn't exactly a stranger to having girls moon over him—not that you are of course—but it's more than possible that he's only marginally registered your interest. He probably enjoys the attention, but there's a distinct possibility that he'll never overtly acknowledge your interest."

There was a supremely awkward pause after that. Evelyn felt a need to apologize. She turned to the other girl, a sheepish look plastered across her face. "I'm sorry, Lourdes. I've been told I don't play well with others, I blame my maladjusted youth, but it's really no excuse. I was really just trying to help, but I don't really know you that well and I think I might have crossed a line, so I'm—"

Lourdes put up a hand to cut of Evelyn's bumbling rant. Her face bore a small smile and Evelyn unclenched a little. "It's fine, Evelyn, really. You're just telling me things I already know, but didn't want to admit. You meant well and that's what matters the most." Evelyn's face broke out into a genuine smile. She extended a gloved hand. "So…friends?"

Lourdes took her hand and shook it enthusiastically. "Friends." The brunette shook her head slightly and turned back to the shelves where they were stacking supplies. "I should actually thank you for that. I needed to get out of my own head a little bit. Besides, Hal's no where near over Karen."

Evelyn furrowed her eyebrows and paused, a bottle of penicillin in her hand. "Who's Karen?"

"Hal's girlfriend. She got taken by skitters a little while ago, while they were trying to save Ben. Hal was there when it happened. He doesn't really talk about it, but I think it has him pretty broken up."

Evelyn felt a wave of sympathy pass through her. After everything that had already happened to Hal, losing his mom and his brother, he really deserved a break from tragedy. Especially since he lost Karen while getting Ben back, trading one for the other, not sure whether to be happy or heartbroken, and feeling guilty for feeling one when the other was such a real and present part of his life. Evelyn knew the grief and the guilt she had felt when Teddy died, and they weren't even involved.

When she, Anne, and Lourdes had finally finished with the inventory, Evelyn walked out the door and leaned against the wall, staring at the one opposite it. It was covered in photos. They were all of smiling, happy people. Some were of families, others were clearly taken from yearbooks. Anne silently leaned next to her. They remained quiet for a while, studying the faces of a different era in human history. Funny how that era was only about a year ago.

Anne was the first to speak. "The photos are of folks who are missing. It helps us keep an eye out for each other and our loved ones. You should put some of your photos up. You never know, it might help."

"I don't have any," Evelyn whispered quietly.

Anne gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry. I know how difficult it is not to have anything to hold on to. I don't have any photos of my son. His face is burned into my brain, but I wish I had something tangible to remember him by."

Evelyn shook her head sadly. "No, that's not what I meant. I don't have anybody whose picture I would put on the wall."

Anne physically shuddered a little and looked into Evelyn's face. "They're all dead?"

Evelyn gave her a sad smile. "They were never there to begin with."

Anne turned back to stare at the wall, but took Evelyn's hand in hers, brushing it with her thumb as a gesture of sympathy. Evelyn wasn't one for physical contact, but she didn't move away. This woman exuded an aura of comfort. The two stood in silence for a while. Then something caught Evelyn's attention. She released Anne's hand and walked towards a particular photo, pulling it from the wall for a closer inspection.

"Ah," Anne said in a low voice. "I always liked that picture. That's my friend Cecelia's daughter. About a week before she ended up with us her husband was killed in attack. She lost her daughter in the same raid. She's not sure if she's alive or not. She was a cutie, though. Her name's M—"

"Marjorie," Evelyn said with a ridiculously huge smile on her face. "Her name's Marjorie." She turned to face Anne. "And she's very much alive. In fact, she's probably less than 100 meters away from where we're standing right now."

Anne's face soon matched Evelyn's. It felt like Christmas morning.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Evelyn left Anne who quickly ran off to reunite the mother and daughter. Evelyn didn't want to intrude on that moment, so instead she wandered the high school until she found the music room. She walked in and closed the door behind her. She felt a surge of joy run through her when she saw the piano in the center of the room, just waiting to be played. If there was one thing that Evelyn missed, it was music. In the loneliness of her youth, music was her respite, her release. She found that the notes that she played could actually alter her emotions. If she was sad or angry or frustrated, the right song could change all that. She pulled up the bench and flipped open the lid, tapping lightly on the keys to see whether or not it was correctly. She breathed in and began playing the notes that, over the years, had become so familiar to her. Claire de Lune. To her that song bespoke innocence and tragedy, hope in the face of that which has already been lost. It seemed a propos considering the situation she was in. While playing it she could imagine Marjorie sprinting into the open arms of her mother who, in Evelyn's mind, had the same unruly, curly blonde hair as her daughter.

Upon completing the piece, she heard a slow clap. Someone had slipped in during her performance. She turned around to see a strange man leaning on the wall next to the door with a beer clutched in his hands. He had long, dirty hair, tattoos, a heavily bandaged leg, and wore a necklace of what looked like skitter claws. "So you must be the 'Great Mother' everyone's been talking about. The one who saved all those kids from the Big Bad Clayton. The way they're all talking about you, you're some kind of superhero. A fuckin' beacon of hope to light up the dark days of the skitter invasion." His voice was thick with sarcasm. Not the type that fit in with the lighthearted banter that Evelyn loved so much. It was laced with derision. "I must say I was expecting something more than a piano-playing princess. Though I guess I shouldn't expect that much from someone who had to be hospitalized because she got a little sleepy."

Evelyn narrowed her eyes. This guy did not make a good first impression. "Careful. If you add any more swagger to that speech you might not be able to stand up straight." She glanced at his injured leg. "It looks like you might be having difficulties with that to begin with. You're walking pretty tall for a guy with a limp. Though I guess I should expect an excessive amount of bravado from a guy who feels it necessary to advertise his kills by wearing them around his neck. Tell me, did you actually kill all those skitters or did you just follow around other people waiting for them to do the dirty work? You're either excessively arrogant or just plain full of shit. At this point I can't really tell."

He laughed lightly. "Well aren't you a mouthy bitch. Can't say I was expecting that. The way they're talkin' I was expectin' some sort of Joan of Arc." He gave her an appraising look. "Daddy issues, I'm guessing. You're what seventeen and a concert-level pianist? I'm guessing absenteeism. Some sort of hot-shot job. He abandoned you even before the skitters came a-knockin'. You lookin' for a strong, masculine figure to make you feel loved." Evelyn knew he was expecting her to cringe with disgust or be discomfited by his perspicacity, so she did the opposite of what he expected. She did the same thing she always did: she gave as good as she got.

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to go all wide-eyed and tell you to stop being so mean? Or cry about how my socialite mommy tried to trade me to the skitters to save her own life?"

The man smirked. "Generally, yeah."

"I am a mouthy bitch. Never pretended to be anything else." Evelyn turned around on the bench to face him, resting her elbows on her knees and lacing her fingers together, contemplating the figure before her. "The question is, what are you? You're smart, observant, that much is obvious. A fucking monument to practicality. You see a problem, a puzzle, you solve it, whether it's taking down a mech or deconstructing a person's life history based on the available personal details. But right now all I see is an opportunistic bastard. The invasion was the best thing to happen to you, wasn't it? So what happened?" She brought her hands to her mouth and furrowed her eyebrows in thought. "You fucked up your life beforehand and so all those civilized opportunities were closed off too you. Probably something stupid, some petty crime from your youth that knocked over those dominoes. Stuck in some dead-end job on the fringes of legality. You were a disappointment to someone, seeing as how happy you are with the new situation. You're proud of yourself, of your ability to survive, because you have something to prove. And since 'absentee father' was the first thing you thought when you looked at me, I'd say that's what you are." At that se saw the man tense a bit. She latched onto that reaction and delved a little deeper. "Ah, I see I touched a nerve there. You had kids. You don't know what happened to them." Evelyn realized the cruelty of her own words. The hard expression on her face softened a bit. "I'm sorry about your kids."

A dark look passed over his eyes. She had clearly hit close to home, and she regretted it. But the vulnerability lasted only moments before the man resorted back to his clever holstility. "I have to say I always did like the feisty ones."

Evelyn's face colored in disgust. He didn't seem to like having other people's sympathy. "I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit."

A cruel smirk appeared on the man's face. "You're an observant little bitch, I'll give you that. But the real question is whether or not you're a _useful_ observant little bitch."

Evelyn grabbed the knife she kept hidden in her boot and threw it. With a thump it embedded in the wall inches from the man's head. "You can tell me whether or not I'm useful." She walked across the room and retrieved it from the wall. She looked the man dead in the eye. "But I don't feel the need to advertise my kills around my neck. If I did, my necklace would be a hell of a lot longer than yours. And not all of my little tokens would belong to skitters."

She yanked the knife out of the wall and took a step backwards, returning the knife to her boot. To her surprise, the man extended his hand out to her. "The name's Pope."

Evelyn ignored the hand and let out a bitter laugh. "Well isn't that ironic."

She moved past him, heading for the door. "You're not going to tell me your name? That's just plain rude."

Evelyn stopped for a moment, her hand on the doorknob. "You have to earn my name."

She quickly stepped through the door, refusing to look Pope in the eye, and slammed it behind her. She took a calming breath and turned to walk down the hall, immediately finding herself face-to-face with an Asian guy. Tai? Dai? "Jesus fu— I'm sorry. You surprised me."

The man looked at her curiously. "I've got to say, I've never seen anyone get to Pope like that."

Evelyn rubbed the back of her neck and looked down at the floor. "I'm not saying I'm the most civilized of folk, but I'm also not generally that hostile."

"Don't apologize. That was as satisfying for me to hear as it was for you to say."

The two just stood there for a few minutes. Evelyn was unsure why. "Um, is there something I can help you with? Dai, right?"

"Yeah. Weaver wants you in his office. Something about your assignment. Maggie said that if you were MIA I could probably find you here. Her exact words were 'If you want to find twinkle-toes, go to wherever the piano is."

"Ok. Thanks, Dai. I guess I'll see you around." Dai just nodded and walked away. Apparently he wasn't much of a talker. Evelyn spun on her heel and walked back to Weaver's office. Whatever he wanted with her, she hoped it didn't involve meeting new people, because she had met her quota for the day.

As Evelyn approached the door of Weaver's office, she could hear the distinct sounds of an argument coming from inside. Suspecting that Tom and Weaver were having it out again, she leaned against the wall outside the door so as not to interrupt. Tom was clearly using his 'dad voice', probably trying to calm Weaver down. The gruff old soldier did seem like a bit of a hothead. But upon paying closer attention, Evelyn realized that the other voice she was hearing wasn't Weaver's. It was Hal's.

"Dad, you CAN'T be serious. Making Evey a fighter? How is that a good plan?"

Evelyn felt herself bristle at the remark, but decided not to interrupt. If Hal had a problem with her, she wanted to know exactly what it was.

When he responded, Tom's voice sounded wearied. "Look, Hal, I know you don't want to replace Karen, none of us do, but we have to accept that she's gone, at least for the time being. You can't be going out on missions alone and Evey—"

"Dad, this had nothing to do with replacing Karen. It's who you're trying to replace her with."

"Evey's smart. She's resourceful."

Hal sounded exasperated. "I know she's smart. You don't think I know that? She's always been a braniac, and a bit annoying about it too. But when we're out there getting shot at, does it really matter that she can recite all the state capitals from memory or do integral calculus? Not really. I mean, can she even shoot a gun?"

"She kept those kids alive."

"That's not the same thing as driving into a war-zone, dad, and you know it. I mean, what is she going to if we run into a mech? Put on her ballet shoes and pirouette around it until its sensors get confused? That's hardly a viable option. Her life before this shitshow didn't exactly prepare her for combat. Remember this is the girl who cried for twenty minutes when we found a dead pigeon in the street."

Now Evelyn was pissed. So this was what Hal thought of her. She was still the spoiled little princess in his eyes. She pushed off the wall and turned into the room, with arms crossed and eyebrows raised. When Hal saw her his eyes widened. He opened his mouth to say something, probably to apologize, but she cut off any attempt he made.

"So, Hal, do you still crawl into bed with your parents when there's a thunderstorm?" Hal looked confused and shook his head. Evelyn nodded her head slowly and continued, her voice dripping with hostile sarcasm. "You don't? Oh, that's _right_. You're not twelve anymore. You've grown up since then, haven't you? Well you're not the only one. Don't pretend you know who I am anymore, Hal. You don't know a fucking thing about me, what I've been through, or what I'm capable of. How could you? After all we haven't spoken in upwards of five years. I'm sorry about your friend Karen and I'm sorry you're getting stuck with a new partner. If you don't want to work with me, that's your prerogative, but I really couldn't care less. I can make myself useful in other ways."

And for the second time in an hour she pulled the knife out of her boot and threw it across the room at the picture of a skitter some kid had drawn. With a soft thump, it embedded itself directly in the thing's eye. Her aim was improving. Hal's mouth dropped open in shock. He seemed incapable of speech. This time she didn't bother trying to retrieve the knife. She just spun on her heel and stomped out of the room, her flaming red hair whipping behind her.

She could hear Tom's vaguely amused voice as she left. "You really stepped in it, kid."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

A few hours later, Evelyn found herself sitting on the roof of the school, her legs hanging over the edge as always. She took a swig of the beer she had swiped from the kitchens and took another calming breath. She was still seething about Hal's words earlier. It was possible that she was over-reacting to the whole situation, but she was tired of being doubted. She had spent her entire life being misjudged and underestimated. Part of her had thought that with an alien apocalypse she would get a fresh start, that she would be given a chance to be relevant, valued even. Apparently that wasn't the case.

She heard the door to the roof open and shut. There was a light clanking noise behind her as someone approached.

"Hey, Max."

Max carefully lowered himself from his crutches to the floor and shimmied into position next to her. He grabbed the beer from the hand and took a long draught, emptying if completely. "You're too young for that stuff, Lyn. You don't get to use booze to drown your sorrows for another three years. That's the law."

Evelyn grabbed a second beer from where she had it stowed and popped the cap off. She took a small sip. "The law can bite me. Go find a truancy officer or something. Until then you can share this with me."

Max accepted the bottle and took another small swig before returning it. "You missed the reunion. Marjorie and he mom are back together."

"You know I'm not good with the big emotional moments, Max. So how did it go?"

"It went well."

Evelyn smiled. "Good. What's the mom like?"

"Cecelia?" That caught Evelyn's attention. He was already on a first name basis. "She's nice, good even. She was a school teacher before all this," he said waving his hand vaguely.

Max was providing her with a lot of unnecessary details about this Cecelia. Evelyn smiled to herself. With Max, this could only mean one thing. He had a crush. "Is she hot?"

Max looked at her with mock outrage. "Evelyn Catherine Walsh! How dare you think that of me? I would never objectify a woman in that manner, especially after that lecture you gave me…But, yeah she was hot. Super-hot. Like Charlize Theron level of hotness."

Evelyn laughed in spite of herself. "You should hit that."

"Now Evelyn, I hardly think the situation calls for physical violence."

She rolled her eyes and shoved him. They stayed in silence for a few minutes, until Max broke it. "So, Lyn, are you ever going to tell me why exactly it is that you're sitting on the roof drinking beer?"

"I was thinking about picking up a hobby. 'Drunk Astronomy' sounded good. I made it up. See what you do is you learn all the constellations and then when you drink and the outlines start to get blurry, you have to describe what they look like."

Max nodded thoughtfully. "Hm, intriguing. Now I thought you hiding out might have something to do with the dashing young gentleman who's been dashing—" he wiggled his eyebrows—"around camp looking for you for the last hour or so."

Evelyn shook her head and stared at the sky evasively. "Nope, nothing to do with that."

Max stroked his chin. "Well that's too bad, because said young gentleman just happens to be on the other side of that door."

Evelyn heard the door to the roof squeak open. Footsteps approached and someone helped Max to his feet, or rather his foot. She heard crutches hitting the tile as Max left without a word. Someone sat down next to her. She could feel their eyes on her, but she stubbornly refused to turn her head to meet their gaze.

"So you gave him the speech about the objectification of women, too?"

"I haven't completely changed since I was twelve, Hal. Everything in that speech is as true now as it was then."

Hal cleared his throat a couple of times. It was like he wanted to say something, it just wouldn't come out.

"Look, Evey. I'm sorry about what I said. I guess I don't know you as well as I thought I did. Or at all, for that matter." He held out the knife she had thrown in Weaver's office. "Apparently you're not the ballet prodigy anymore. You're fully capable of kicking skitter ass."

"Damn straight I am." Evelyn sighed. "I never liked ballet, you know. It hurt my feet. And Julia wouldn't let me eat anything but yogurt, granola and grapefruit. Those crappy school lunches were the best food I ever got to eat. Hell, the cuisine I get to eat now is an improvement."

Hal scratched the back of his head. "Evey, if I could take back what I said—"

"Hal, you need to recognize when someone is trying to let you off the hook. I think I owe you a bit of an apology as well."

He looked confused. "How do you figure that?"

"I never gave you any reason to think I was a capable fighter, and I kind of blew up in your face when you assumed I wasn't. I mean, before the invasion I did have a bit of a poor, misunderstood little princess vibe going for me. As far as you knew the only weapons I had in my arsenal were ballet, piano, and my rapier wit. Like you said, I can't exactly take down a mech with pirouettes and harsh words."

"Yeah, well, Max kind of set me straight for you. He's kind of terrifying."

"Pshah. He's a sweetheart."

Hal widened his eyes and shook his head frantically. "Clearly you've never faced the full force of his wrath. He told me to apologize or he would floss his teeth with my tendons." He visibly shuddered. "Creepy."

"I'm like 90% sure he wouldn't follow through on that threat. What did he say?"

"Well, he told me that he taught you everything you know. And that you saved his life more times than he could count."

"If only I could get him to say that to my face." Evelyn kicked her feet back and forth and slowly exhaled.

"Hal, I'm not trying to step on any toes. I'm certainly not trying to replace Karen, I wouldn't presume to try. And when we get her back—yes when, not if—I will be happy to step aside and you guys can skip off into the sunset killing every skitter in your path. Until then, I just want to blow things up and kick some serious skitter ass with someone who I know has my back. I think that someone could be you. Do you think you could do that?"

Hal nodded, a small, sad smile forming on his face. "Yeah, I think I could do that."

"Good. It's settled then."

They both stared out across the camp. "I really miss her."

Evelyn took his hand in hers. "I know you do, Hal. I'm sorry."

He sighed. "So what happens now?"

Evelyn reached out and grabbed two more beers from their hiding spot. "You want to try your hand at some 'Drunk Astronomy'?"

Hal let out a snort of laughter and took one of the beers, removing the cap and clinking against hers. "Absolutely."

Evelyn considered the sky. She had only had half a beer, Max could seriously suck that stuff down, but she felt like some random fun. "If you squint the Big Dipper kind of looks like a monkey smoking a cigarette."

Hal tilted his head. "I can see that."

**So there's chapter 12. I'm not sure how it turned out. I'm actually a bit disappointed with it, so any suggestions for changes would be good.  
**

** Hal can be a bit of an egotistical jerk sometimes, a loveable jerk but a jerk none the less, and I wanted that to come across a bit. I also want to know how I did with Pope. He's my favorite character after Maggie. I also wanted Evelyn to out-Pope Pope. So, what do you think?**

**Also, I wanted Max to reprise his Yenta role.**

**Mechs suffer catastrophic failures when you review.**


	13. Murphy's Law

**Here's a new chapter! I think with the next one I'll start actually using episodes and dialogue from the show and stuff.**

**Photos of my OCs are on my profile (copy the URLs and delete spaces)**

**A great big thank you to all the people who read/followed/favorited/reviewed! Keep it coming!**

**REVIEW PRETTY PLEASE!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Falling Skies', just my OCs.**

Chapter 13 – Murphy's Law

Murphy's Law: If anything can go wrong, it will. Evelyn didn't know who that son of a bitch Murphy was, but he certainly had it in for her. How else could a simple food run go so terribly, terribly wrong?

There were seven of them out on that mission: Evelyn, Tom, Hal, Maggie, Dai, Anthony, and this one guy named Joe. Or Jake. That was it, Jake. Evelyn had only been with the 2nd Mass for a week and a half and just met Jake the day before. Or was it Jack. Damn it, she never really was any good with names.

One unfortunate part of this alien invasion was that they were smart. The skitters had taken to leaving a couple of skitters and mechs behind to take out anyone trying to exploit the potential resources.

It had all started out calmly enough, her induction into the ranks of the 2nd Mass. How was it that Tom put it? Standard operating procedure. Tom rounded up the troops. "OK guys, we're going to go with standard operating procedure here. We're going in through the service entrance. I'll go in with Hal and Evey. We'll scope out the place. If you guys hear anything, any sort of hostile just take the truck and bikes and get the hell out of dodge. We'll rendez-vous with you at that kid's playground on Broad St. If we don't show, head back to the school."

They waited for night to fall and then moved in. When they got to the service entrance, there was a solid padlock holding it shut. Tom scratched his forehead. "OK guys. We don't want to risk the noise opening this thing up. The 2nd is running low on food, so leaving it isn't really an option. We'll go 'round front. I'm on point."

Tom made to move out but Evelyn grabbed his arm. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow your roll there, professor-man. Just give me a second." She crouched in front of the lock and pulled a bobby pin out of her hair. She twisted it into the correct shape, jimmied and twisted until she heard the tell-tale click. She turned around with a grin on her face, tossing the lock at Tony and the mutilated pin at Hal. "Sometimes it pays to be girly."

Maggie raised her eyebrows in approval. "Damn chickadee, when did you become a delinquent?"

"Around the same time I met you," Evelyn shot back with a smirk on her face.

They opened the gate. Armed with flashlights, assault rifles, a couple of grenades, and their wits, they moved in. Tom, Hal, and Evelyn cleared the aisles. Evelyn was careful to keep her plane of vision as open as possible, keeping her back to the walls as much as possible and taking slow, careful steps. Empty. She waved her hand across the plane of light from her flashlight to indicate that her sector was clear. Within the next three minutes or so, Hal and Tom did the same. She quickly jogged back to the point of entry to help move the car.

She, Tony and Dai pushed the truck in through the back entrance to the point where Tom was standing. "OK, Tony you keep watch and load the food as it comes. Dai, Jack, you're with me. We'll take cans. Evey, take the shopping cart. You and Hal take rice, oatmeal, all the dried stuff. Quickly now."

Evelyn grabbed the cart and whispered to Hal. "Come on, rice it two aisles over." They moved quickly, and started with the bottom shelves. Evelyn would toss the bags to Hal and he would stash them. When the basket was full they'd run it back to Tony. By the fourth trip the lower shelves had been picked clean. Evelyn found herself scaling the massive, industrial-sized shelving units, tossing bags down to Hal. She was standing at the top of the shelves when she heard the telltale electric whine. Evelyn knew before the explosions started that things were about to get real bad real fast. That sound meant one thing: mechs. Fuck.

She heard the sound of an AK going off on the other side of the store until it was suddenly cut off. That was Jack's gun. Either he lost his gun or he was dead. It was probably the latter. Hal was waving her down from the top of the structure when something barreled through the lower shelves almost shaking her off. She took a couple of seconds to regain her balance before she could look down to see what was going on. A skitter had bashed through the lower levels of the shelving unit and now had Hal pinned to the ground, grasping desperately for his Galil MAR carbine, which was just out of his reach. Evelyn swung Sherlock so he was across her back grabbed the hilt of the ice pick she had started to keep in her boot. She stationed herself so that she was right over the skitter, said a silent prayer, and jumped.

When she landed on the skitter, the thing freaked out. Clearly it wasn't expecting teenagers to be falling from the skies. That was their job. It tried to yank her off, but she quickly wrapped her left arm around its neck to hold on, and then brought her right arm around, forcing the ice pick up through the weak spot under the jaw that she had identified earlier until the hilt collided with the scaly flesh. She continued to hold on as the skitter began to stumble about, its legs seeming to lose their ability to coordinate movement. She twisted the ice pick and it finally collapsed to the ground.

Evelyn yanked the ice pick out of the skitter's head and wiped it on her pants before returning it to her boot. She ran back to where Hal lay on the ground. "You OK?" she asked breathlessly, extending out a hand for him to take. He grabbed it and pulled himself to his feet.

"Good enough," he said, grabbing his weapon. "Why didn't you use your gun?"

"Don't be an idiot, Hal. I would have hit you. Hand-to-hand may be more dangerous, but it gives more control. It's the better option if you have the element of surprise." She glanced left and right. "C'mon."

The two of them ran to the end of the aisle and glanced around the corner. They caught sight of the mech walking by about five rows down. "I think Jack's dead. I don't hear his AK any more. Your dad and Dai are probably pinned down by the mech." She pulled Sherlock into her arms and cocked the gun.

Hal did the same. "I'll flank right. You go left."

"That sounds like a half-assed plan."

Hal looked her dead in the eye. "You got a better one?"

"Nope. Half-assed plans are my favorite kind. They allow for more improvisation." She gave him a wink and punched him in the arm. "See you on the other side."

They ran in opposite directions. Evelyn grabbed hold of some duct tape she saw as she jogged down one of the aisles. When she turned the corner she saw the mech bearing down on Dai who was on the floor, leaning against a shelf. She ran into the aisle, totally exposing herself. "LOOK AT ME, I'M A TARGET!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, drawing the mech from what looked like an incapacitated Dai. She got a couple of shots off before she saw the lasers of the mechs firing mechanism focusing on her chest. She threw herself out of the firing range, but she caught a glimpse of Hal grabbing Dai, the two of them scrambling to safety, slipping a bit as they moved. She saw a figure still lying there on ground. She was right about Jack. She usually liked being right. This time it just made her feel sick.

Evelyn pressed herself against shelf just around the corner from where the mech was walking. She fumbled in the pockets and pulled out a grenade and the duct tape she had grabbed earlier. She wadded up the tape and stuck is to the outside of the grenade. She wrapped her fingers around the pin and waited. "I'm going to need you guys to hold your fire for a second!"

She knew the mech would expect her to be at the corner, so instead she crawled into shelves, waiting for the opportune moment to make her move. The mech turned the corner and walked a few feet past her. She burst from her hiding spot and pulled the pin of the grenade. Positioning herself directly behind the mech, she stuck the grenade in the joint of it's "leg" and sprinted away as fast as possible, firing shots over her shoulder. The explosion that came moments later threw her to the ground and a stray piece of shrapnel caught her in the shoulder. Bu she scrambled to her feet and kept running. She afforded herself one glance back to see that the mech was collapsed on the floor. All it's weapons were still functional, but it had been immobilized. She turned the corner abruptly, narrowly avoiding being hit by a mech bullet, and collided head-on with Tony.

Evelyn and Tony collapsed to the floor in a heap. "The mech's immobilized but still active," she panted out between gasps of breath. "I should be easy enough to take it down with C4."

Tony nodded. "Maggie's on it. You stay here."

"Yes, sir," Evelyn said breathlessly, giving Tony a weak salute. Tony ran off to help finish off the mech and Evelyn shimmied up into a sitting position, still trying to catch her breath. To get a better look at her injury, she peeled off her jacket and carefully pulled her T-shirt over her head, leaving her in her sport's bra. A few seconds later, she heard a massive explosion. The shelving behind her rattled and a can fell and hit her on the head. "Ow, talk about adding insult to injury."

She heard Tom's voice above echo across the store. "Everyone, OK."

There was the obligatory soundoff. Maggie's voice rose above everyone else's. "Jack's dead." Tony's voice rang out after that. "Evelyn's injured."

Evelyn huffed and muttered to herself. "Traitor." She raised her voice so everyone could hear. "I'm good, it's just a flesh wound."

She heard Hal's voice call out. "Hey Evey, you OK."

"Yup, I'm over here!" She could hear footsteps approaching. Hal rounded the corner and saw the discarded shirt. "Whoa! What are you doing?"

"Get a grip, Hal. I caught some shrapnel and I'm trying to get a look. Help me up." She extended a hand. He grabbed it and yanked her to her feet. She looked him up and down. He was covered in blood. "Jesus, Hal! Are you OK?"

"Not my blood."

"Jack?"

"Yeah, he didn't make it."

Evelyn nodded solemnly. "I heard". There was really nothing you could ever say in these situations. "Did he have a wife, kids or anything like that?"

Hal just nodded sadly.

Evelyn rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hands. "I should have gotten there sooner. I could have helped."

"You can't think like that, Evey. You'll go crazy if you do."

Evelyn snorted. "Well isn't that just a stellar case of the pot calling the kettle a self-flagellating basket case."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's nothing. You just really need to take your own advice, Hal. Stop holding yourself responsible for things you couldn't help and can't control." They both knew she was talking about Karen, but neither of them were willing to say it out loud.

Evelyn turned her head, trying to get a better look at the wound in her shoulder, but it was at a really inconvenient angle. She ran her fingers over the wound, lightly probing it to see the extent of the damage. There was a small chunk of metal lodged in her shoulder, but it wasn't too deep. She pulled at a piece of paper that seemed to be embedded in her wound. It was the label to a can of food. "I got hit by a can of lima beans? It's not enough that I hate the damn things and have to eat them every freaking day, but now they're injuring me too?"

Hal turned her so that he could see the extent of the damage. "It doesn't look too bad, but you should definitely leave it for Dr. Glass to take care of."

Maggie rounded the corner, raising her eyebrows at Evelyn's state of partial undress. But her befuddled expression morphed to concern when she saw the ragged wound. She put down her weapon and quickly walked over and pushed Evelyn's hair to the side to get a good look. "Alright, you'll be fine but, you probably shouldn't lift any more of the supplies."

Unfortunately, when she moved the hair, she revealed that angry scar that ran down the base of Evelyn's neck. Maggie was already aware of its existence, but as she turned around she saw a troubled expression on his face.

"Hey, Evey, what's—"

But Maggie interrupted his inquiry. "I know you're trying to help and all that, Evelyn, but next time could you not use a skitter for a piggyback ride."

"You saw that, huh?"

"Yes, I did. And I thought it was stupid."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Come on, Mags. I saved Hal's life. I'd say that goes in the win column."

Evelyn shook her head. "You did this time, but you have a tendency to be reckless. Don't gamble with your life." Evelyn unconsciously moved her hand to touch that scar, which seemed to infuriate Maggie even more. "That's not an excuse, chickadee. You need to take care of yourself, for me if not for you."

Maggie grabbed her gun and stalked off towards the door to help the others load up the rest of the food.

Hal gave Evelyn an inquiring look as she pulled her shirt back over her head. "How did you guys meet?"

Evelyn looked him in the eyes and blinked a few times before responding. "Church." Then she followed the older girl, leaving Hal with a very confused expression on his face.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

A few hours later Evelyn sat in the medical bay. Again.

Anne was looking over some of the de-harnessed kids, checking their vitals and tracking the progress of their recovery. The spikes had almost completely disappeared in some of them. To Evelyn they looked like happy, healthy, well-adjusted kids. But there were always some exceptions. She was very wary of that one kid, Rick. He had the harness on longer than any of the others, and he just didn't seem to be able to connect with people anymore. She also harbored some concern for Ben. She had been watching out for him, and there was something off about him. It wasn't that he seemed to shy away from human contact like Rick did, he just seemed to react to things a little differently than other people might, differently than he used to. He hid it well, but Evelyn could tell that he was afraid of himself, that the skitters had changed something about him. That was something Evelyn could relate to, having something inside of you that you couldn't control.

Evelyn sat on one of the hospital beds while Lourdes tended to her damaged shoulder. Maggie was sitting in a nearby chair, cleaning her gun. She could feel the cold of the forceps against her skin as the metal fragments were being pulled out. She sucked in as the ragged pieces were being pulled out. "Sorry," Lourdes whispered quietly.

Evelyn could hear Tony out in the hallway recounting the exploits of earlier that day.

"—OK so the mech is about to take out Dai, he's a goner for sure, and then out of nowhere this chick runs out screaming 'I'm a target! I'm a target!' poppin' off a few rounds. And I was like, this crazy chick is going to die. So obviously the mech goes after her, right? She runs around the corner, and I'm thinkin' she's just trying to get the hell out of there. But the mech gets to the end of the aisle and, get this, she runs behind the thing and tapes a grenade to the leg where the joint is. Boom. Grenade goes off. Mech goes down. We clean it up with a little C4. Game over, man—"

Lourdes dabbed at the wound with peroxide. "Sounds like you got yourself a fan."

Evelyn laughed. "Yeah, I'll give it about a week until he realizes that all I am is really, really stupid."

"You got that right," Maggie muttered, never looking up from her gun.

Lourdes finished up, wrapping her shoulder in gauze. "Well I think what you did was really brave."

Maggie cut in again. "Brave and stupid aren't mutually exclusive. In fact, I think they fit together pretty well."

Evelyn hopped off the bed and pulled on a new, clean shirt. "I can't say that I disagree with you Mags, but sometimes well-planned stupidity can save lives."

Maggie looked Evelyn in the face. "I'm not asking you to give up the heroics altogether, Evelyn. Just stop treating your life like it's forfeit."

"It's not like I have a death wish or anything, Mags," Evelyn said, rotating her shoulder to test its range of motion. "You know I don't. I just don't see the point in letting someone else meet their fiery doom when I can stop it. Better to give the gift of life to someone who can live it to the fullest."

A voice came from the corner. "Why can't you." Shit. The back-and-forth made Evelyn forget that they weren't alone. Evelyn felt a bit like a fish out of water, but Maggie's rough voice broke in, saving the day.

"She has a martyr complex. I think it has something to do with taking care of all those kids for so long."

Lourdes gave them that benevolent smile that reminded Evelyn so much of the one Anne wore. "Well, I think we should just keep faith that everything will turn out well."

Evelyn. "You can keep your faith in God, Lourdes. I never had much of that to begin with. I used to have faith in people, but recent experiences have tarnished that a bit. Right now I have faith in the 2nd Mass, and that's good enough for me."

"Well that's good to hear," a gruff voice broke into the conversation. Weaver walked into the medical bay, his arms crossed as usual. "The question is, can the 2nd Mass have faith in you."

Maggie narrowed her eyes slightly. There was always some friction between those two, but it never broke into outright hostility. "What do you mean by that?"

"What I mean is that while Walsh here is clearly a capable fighter, I want to know whether or not she is capable of following orders. I hear that she behaved quite recklessly during your little foraging session."

Evelyn shot a glance at Maggie who shook her head inconspicuously, indicating that she wasn't the one who had talked to Weaver.

"Well, sir, I am of the opinion that there is a fine line to be drawn between recklessness and improvisation and ingenuity. I know that walk that line, I've been forced to for a while, but I always stay on the right side of it."

Weaver wasn't satisfied though. "Improvisation's all well and good when you're on your own, but Miss Walsh when you fight in a unit, you have to consider more than just yourself. Improvisation and a disregard for orders, more often than not end up getting good men killed. You willing to risk that?"

Evelyn opened her to speak, but was surprised when she found an unexpected defender. Lourdes came up to stand next to her with folded arms and stared Weaver down. "The way I hear it, Dai would've died today if she hadn't been willing to risk it."

"Hal, too," Maggie muttered.

Weaver wasn't too happy with the opposition. "You'll forgive me if I don't take military advice from some wannabe doctor-girl. In a military unit, discipline is key. Now Tom's vouched for your actions, but I want to see for myself that I can trust the soldiers I'm sending out."

Evelyn took a breath. "Look, Captain Weaver, I fully understand the need for discipline, especially in battle, but I'd like to keep things in context here. This wasn't a raid on the skitters or anything like that. It was shopping trip. We weren't expecting the mech or anything like that, so there was no plan for me to stick to to begin with. I can assure you that if I were to be a part of a coordinated attack, I would adhere to the orders issued by command."

Weaver gave a curt nod. "That's all I wanted to hear. Now that we've cleared that up, I'd like to congratulate you on your accomplishments."

"Thank you, sir."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Having been cleared by both Lourdes and Anne, Evelyn left the medical bay in search of a little solitude. She wandered around the camp, only vaguely acknowledging the people that greeted her until she made her way to the abandoned school playground that was located near the edge of the tree line. She saw a lone figure sitting on top of the monkeybars. As she got closer, she recognized the profile. It was Ben.

Ben had been having a rough time of it since he had been de-harnessed. Most of the other kids' spikes had receded to the point that they almost disappeared, but his were still there, and external manifestation of his isolation from the rest of the 2nd Mass. Perhaps 'alienation' was a poor choice of words. He might play oblivious, but Evelyn knew he was perfectly aware of the whispers that followed him. Unfortunately that bastard Pope's term 'razorback' had caught on. Nobody was willing to say it in front of Tom or Hal, but Evelyn had heard it being used far too often.

Evelyn gingerly hauled herself onto the monkeybars to sit next to the younger kid. She didn't say a word. Ben had been isolated, so it would be much worse for her to force herself into conversation with him. He would speak when he was ready. It was a good fifteen to twenty minutes before he uttered a single word. It took a while, but Ben eventually opened up a dialogue.

"Why are you here?"

Evelyn stared in front of her at a pile of trash some civilians had dragged out of camp. "The view," she said simply.

"Seriously, Evey. Why?"

Evelyn sighed. "I'm worried about you."

Ben let out a derisive laugh. "Worried the spikes in my back will transmit orders from my alien overlords and I'll rampage throughout the camp killing everything in sight?"

"Is that the prevailing theory? Don't be an ass, Ben. You know what I meant. I want to help. I think I can."

Ben sighed. "Hal said the same thing. He wanted me to open up and share my feelings and all that bullshit so he could 'understand what I'm going through'. But he could never understand."

Evelyn nodded slowly. "Hal's been through a lot, there has been a lot of tragedy in his life, but there are different kinds of suffering. Understanding one type doesn't mean that you'll understand another. Hal just isn't familiar with your type of pain."

Ben snorted bitterly. "And you are."

"I might be." His face was colored by disbelief. She ignored him and continued. "Now I'm just spitballing here, so you can tell me if I'm wrong. Something happened, and now you're exterior to everyone else, not really part of that unit you used to belong to anymore. People avoid you and you hate them for it, just a little bit, but more than that you hate yourself. Not necessarily because you've done anything wrong, because you haven't, but because you understand why they reject you and you think maybe, just maybe, if the tables were turned you'd be doing the exact same thing they are. Knowing that, you eventually start looking at yourself the same way they do. Damaged and dangerous. That sound about right?"

Ben stayed completely quiet, refusing to make eye contact with her. "I'll take that as a yes. But that's only part of it, isn't it."

Ben nodded, still refusing to look at her.

"That's what I thought, because the problem with those spikes in your back isn't just the fact that the other people judge you based on it. You've got something inside you. Something foreign that's crawled under your skin. And you're afraid that it's changing you from the inside out. Even if it's nothing, it always _might_ be something, and you'll never be rid of it. Part of you is waiting for the day when you'll wake up and find that you're not yourself anymore. And what scares you the most is that, if that ever happens, you probably wouldn't even be able to tell."

Ben finally looked her in the face, an incredulous expression coloring his. "How come you're so knowledgeable?"

"I read a book."

Ben laughed lightly. "Maybe I should read that book. Seriously, though? How?"

Evelyn put her good arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. "Well Ben, let's just say that we're the same kind of broken."

Ben cracked a smile. "'The same kind of broken?' I like that."

Evelyn returned the smile. "Yeah, you do. Let's go back to the school. It's chow time and I feel like my stomach is eating itself."

Ben climbed down first, helping Evelyn down. When they turned to head back to the group, she saw Hal's retreating figure about ten meters ahead of them. He glanced backwards at them. It looked like he had been crying.

**So I'm trying to make Maggie and Evelyn have distinct personalities and would like to know how I'm doing.**

**I would also really appreciate feedback on the Evelyn/Ben relationship.**

**Also, who do you think went to Weaver about Evelyn? I know, but do you?  
**

**Finally, to all my readers from the UK (or to my fellow anglophiles), I include 3 separate British pop culture references. What are they and from whence did they originate? Answer correctly and you get a prize. Well, not so much a prize as a feeling of smug satisfaction.  
**

**Every time you review, a skitter dies!**


	14. Secrets and HalfTruths

**So this chapter is a bit shorter. It might be a bit of a filler, but it's also geared to cementing Evelyn's relationships with people in the 2nd Mass.**

**I would really like to know what you guys think of my way of writing fight scenes. There aren't any in this chapter, but I just want to know whether or not they seem horribly disjointed or anything like that.  
**

**Photos of OCs are on my profile.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Falling Skies'**

Chapter 14 – Secrets and Half-Truths

Evelyn wondered exactly how much of her conversation with Ben Hal had overheard. Given his complete and total avoidance of the topic, and of her, she had to assume he had heard all of it. He had been completely MIA since she had seen him walking away from that play structure. But if there was anything Evelyn could empathize with, it was needing a bit of space. So she gave it to him, for now.

Evelyn understood why that conversation had hurt him so much. After everything that had happened, with the invasion, with his mom, with Karen, he had to cling to what he had left, and what he had left was his family. Tom, Matt, Ben, he would do anything for them. It was more than a desire to do what was right. It had become his obligation, his primary purpose. His inability to relate to Ben, his inability to understand the war that raged within his brother, had to be difficult to begin with. It probably didn't help that his friend turned acquaintance, turned awkward neighbor girl, turned friend again, turned partner understood his own brother better than he did. Hal put up a brave front, but Evelyn knew that, underneath it all, he was still just a scared little boy. Not that she would ever say that out loud. Hal may be in touch with his emotions, but he was still a teenage boy. If you look up 'teenage boy' in a thesaurus, one of the synonyms would most certainly be 'bravado'. Evelyn definitely wasn't going to tell him that she noticed his man-tears. Guys could be really sensitive about their sensitivity.

Evelyn decided she would seek out Hal later that night. She knew where he would be. In the meantime she was going to do her level best to make Ben feel like he wasn't a complete outsider in the unit. She convinced him to eat dinner with her, Max, Cecelia, Marjorie, and Amy.

Evelyn was ecstatic when she saw how well Max was adjusting to life in the 2nd Mass. He had actually managed to construct himself a new little family. He had basically adopted Marjorie all those months ago when she first arrived at the 7th, but now he had found himself a woman too. Cecelia was just what Max had needed, especially after what he had gone through with his ex-wife. That bitch had sent him a 'Dear John' letter when he had been shipped off on a second tour in Iraq, taking his money and his son. Cecelia on the other hand was a genuinely good person, and when she looked at Max her face lit up like a Christmas tree. Evelyn felt that she had been edged out of his life a little bit, but she wasn't resentful about it at all. They would always be parts of each others' lives to a certain extent. In fact, she was glad Max didn't really need her anymore. As she had said on that night all those weeks ago, she and Max were the same kind of broken, but that was in the past now. From the looks of things, Cecelia and Marjorie had glued Max back together again. He had a family again. Evelyn wasn't going to screw that up for him by showering them with her emotional and social dysfunction.

Evelyn shoved Ben into the line with her. They were slowly making their way towards the food and Ben kept complaining about her insistence on introducing him to new people.

"Really, Evey, what's the point of this?"

"Well Ben, the point is that if you shut yourself off from everyone and get all broody, you're going to get weird." She gave him an appraising look. "I mean weird-er."

"Ha ha, very funny."

"No Ben, I'm serious," she said, nudging him forward in line. "If you keep up this self-isolation routine you're going to start doing creepy, antisocial stuff. Like, just as a for instance, you might find yourself sitting alone in abandoned playgrounds staring at piles of post-apocalyptic trash. Oh, wait….." She made a face and Ben rolled his eyes at her. She did a silent dance at having successfully elicited such a typical teenage response. "That felt awkward. Did I make things awkward?"

Ben put a hand on her shoulder, almost as if trying to comfort her. "Evey, you always make things awkward."

She just smiled. This was a bit more like the Ben she remembered. They continued on through the line till they arrived at the person who was serving the food: Pope. The first time she saw him serving food, she had been quite surprised. She had really never expected to see him in an apron. But the whole 'cook' thing explained why he had this sort of pathological need to keep washing his hands. She had initially thought he was a germaphobe, but nobody with hair that greasy could be overly concerned with hygiene.

When she reached him, he gave a mock bow, giving it a flourish with the wave of his hand. "Well if it isn't the 'Great Mother' and one of her wayward children, come down fro her seat on Olympus to save us all from the emotional peril of the evil skitter invasion."

"Demigods have got to eat too," she retorted. "Not all of us can be Nero, sitting around playing his fiddle—like an asshole—while the world burns around him."

"Touché." Evelyn held out her plate and he unceremoniously plopped a ladle of food on it. "You gonna tell me your name yet?"

"Not yet, Martha Stewart. You see that's funny because she cooks AND she's a convicted felon. Also, she called me and said she wants her apron back." The few sentences of back-and-forth had kind of become a daily tradition between her and Pope. She actually almost liked the guy. He was smart, funny, surprisingly well-informed and a great conversationalist. It was really too bad he was such an asshole.

Evelyn half-dragged Ben to the table where the others were sitting. Marjorie was jumping up and down and waving them over with the type of enthusiasm reserved for small children while Amy was trying to get her to calm down. As Evelyn approached she saw Cecelia pushing the hair out of Max's face, all tenderness and intimacy. The two adults were clearly blind to her's and Ben's approach. Evelyn sat down at the table, slamming down her plate quite loudly causing Max and Cecelia to jump apart. "You guys are so domestic. It's seriously adorable."

Max gave her a look that spelled 'fuck off', but Evelyn just gave him an enormous, self-satisfied grin. He shook his head in frustration. "You know what, Lyn? I really hate you sometimes."

"Pshah. You love me." She reached across the table with her fork, scooped up some of his rice, and ate it, holding a smug expression on her face the entire time like she was proving some sort of a point."

Evelyn started eating her food. Amy, who was sitting opposite Evelyn, kicked her under the table. "Geeze, Amy! What the hell was that for?" But the younger girl just cleared her throat and jerked her head towards Ben, who was still standing behind her, holding his plate and looking very awkward. Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. Don't pretend you don't know who he is."

Amy gritted her teeth and hissed, "Just because I know who he is doesn't mean we've been introduced!"

But Evelyn just shrugged nonchalantly and kept eating, slightly smirking to herself. She caught Max's eye and winked. They both knew exactly how this was going to play out, and it would end with both Ben and Amy finding a new friend. Amy wasn't really good at making friends with people her own age. She was too grown up, too serious, and too disillusioned to sustain relationships with the young folk. Marjorie was her only friend who hadn't completed puberty yet, but she was basically a little sister, not a 'pal'. But Ben, though. He had that same 'adult' quality as Amy did, the one borne of too many life experiences. Amy was belligerent and Ben was lonely. They would bond over sarcasm and a general dissatisfaction with people in general. Needless to say, Evelyn was quite satisfied with her efforts.

Amy stood up and marched around the table, 'accidentally' bashing Evelyn with her elbow. When she finally reached Ben, she extended a hand out for him to take. "I apologize for my socially inept acquaintance over there—"

"'Ey! 'Oo are you callin' socially inept?" Evelyn mumbled, her mouth full of rice and a smile plastered on her face.

Amy just rolled her eyes. "I'm Amy Haverford."

Ben took her hand and shook it, losing some of his awkwardness. "Ben Mason. Nice to meet you."

Amy nodded definitively. "I'm sure it is. Now why don't you sit down and join us for lunch?" She looked pointedly at Evelyn. "See, now was that so hard. Just because the world's gone to shit doesn't mean we have to behave like hill-people. And for the love of God close your mouth."

Evelyn's grin grew even bigger. "Yes, mom."

The pair sat down and everyone began to eat in silence for a while. Amy was the first one to break the ice. "So, Ben. What's it like having giant pieces of alien sticking out your back."

Everyoneat the table, including little Marjorie, choked on their food and went into a bit of a coughing fit. Cecelia was the first to recover.

"_Amy!_ That is horribly rude! Apologize to Ben this instant!"

But Amy just threw her hands up in exasperation. "What? It's not like you guys weren't curious too. I mean does it hurt? Does it tickle? If you pluck at them can you play 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' like on a xylophone or something? Come on guys, you can't pretend that you don't want to know. I can't see the use of tiptoeing around the issue. In fact, I just think it makes everything more awkward."

Evelyn really wanted to laugh at this point, but she thought it might be a bit inappropriate. But then she heard a soft wheezing noise. She glanced across the table to see Ben clutching his chest and positively shaking with silent laughter.

Evelyn felt her face break out into a huge smile.

Oh, yeah. This was going to be good.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

After Amy's little outburst, the rest of the dinner had been fairly uneventful. All and all, Evelyn thought the evening had been an outstanding success. Max and Evelyn had done some light flirting, Marjorie had fallen asleep on the table, and Amy and Ben were deep in discussion about their favorite childhood books. If there was a good time for Evelyn to slip away, this was it. The sun was setting. It was time to find Hal.

Evelyn made her way up to the roof of the school. There she saw a lone figure sitting at the edge. The profile she saw set against the red of the setting sun bespoke exhaustion. Whether it was physical exhaustion, emotional exhaustion, or a combination of the two, Evelyn was not sure. She silently walked up to Hal and sat down next to him. "Rough day?"

Hal let a weak laugh. "About sixteen hours you were impaled by a projectile can of lima beans and you're asking me if I had a rough day?"

"It would seem that way, Hal. So you want to tell me what's up."

He shook his head wearily. "Not particularly, no."

Evelyn scooted closer to him and nudged him with her elbow. "Well that's too bad. I'm your partner so you're contractually bound to tell me what's bugging you."

Hal snorted. It wasn't his typical light-hearted snort. This one was angry and bitter and was paired with a cruel sneer that didn't suit his face at all. "You know, that's rich coming from you."

Evelyn was taken aback by his hostility. "What do you mean by that?"

His eyes snapped to hers. The usual warm brown color was gone, replaced by a darker, harsher tone. "Don't play dumb, Evelyn. It suits you a lot less than I expected it would. You're secrets have secrets. You haven't said a word about yourself, about the 7th Mass, about anything since you've gotten here. How the hell am I supposed to know if I can trust you or not? You like to be all cryptic and shit, and for what? To get attention, is that it? After all those years in the shadows, do you just want to make yourself interesting?"

Evelyn physically recoiled a bit, as if his lashing words had made actual, physical contact. Hal took note of her reaction and seemed to immediately regret what he had said. Evelyn didn't know how to respond at first, so she settled on the typical fallback. Simple, but brutal.

"Fuck you, Hal."

Hal just hung his head and nodded in response, almost as if he agreed with her assessment. Sometimes Evelyn thought that maybe he was even more broken than even she could see. Evelyn was pretty sure he was expecting her to storm off, but instead she linked her arm through his and just sat there until he was willing to talk.

"I'm worried about Ben. I try to relate to him, I really do, but there's this disconnect. I can't know what's going on in his head anymore, but apparently you can." He let out a long, slow breath and looked at her in the eyes. His had returned back to their usual soft, warm brown color. "I'm not sure what bothers me more, the fact that you know my brother better than I do or the fact that whatever happened to you allows you to understand his situation. And you won't tell me what that is."

Evelyn nodded. "You know, Hal, you could just try asking me questions. It's not exactly a novel strategy."

"OK, then. Who's Teddy."

"He's an inanimate, plushy bear that's typically used to comfort small children. Particularly at night."

Hal tried to give her a withering look, but a bit of a smile broke through in spite of his efforts to keep it tucked away. "You know what I mean, Evey. I saw you at his grave before we left the prison."

"God! I knew someone was watching me. Hal Mason, you are a creepy, creepy voyeur, you know that?"

She had him laughing a bit again. She smirked. "That's better."

Hal tried to shake off the laughter. "No. You need to answer the question. You know about what I went through with Karen. It's only fair that I know what happened with this guy."

Evelyn sighed in defeat. "Fine, I'll tell you everything about what went down with the 7th Mass, but you probably won't like me anymore when I finish the story."

Hal gave her a one-armed hug. "That's not possible, Evey."

So Evelyn launched into the story about Teddy, about Clayton, about saving the kids. She told him about amputating Max's leg and showed him the ragged burn scars on her hands that she always kept covered. She told him about how Teddy had died saving her life. She told him about the man she killed and how she didn't even know his name. She didn't even realize she was crying until she felt Hal wipe at her face.

He sucked in a long breath, facing the sunset and slowly exhaling again. "Well, that sounds like it sucked."

Evelyn burst out into a fit of hysterical laughter. "I pour out the tale of my own personal human suffering and that's what you go with? 'It _sounds_ like it sucked'? Hal, I had to chop off my best friend's leg! What's your response to child laborers or victims of human trafficking? 'The conditions of your employment appear to have been marginally inconvenient'?"

Pretty soon Hal was laughing too. Because that's really all you could do in the face of all that grief: find something to laugh about.

The laughter eventually died down. They just sat there for a while until the stars came out. "Why did you think I wouldn't want to be friends anymore?"

"I killed a guy, Hal. Fuck, that's the first time I actually said that out loud. You're actually the only person I've told." At that, she felt him stiffen next to her and saw him blink with surprise. She ignored it and kept speaking, unable to slow the words pouring out of her mouth. "But I did it, Hal, I killed him. I threw a knife at his throat and watched him crumple to the ground, clutching at his neck while blood spilled out. I did that. And it gave me this sick sense of satisfaction, I was glad he was dead. What kind of person does that make me? That's a line that I _never_ wanted to cross. And I did."

"Don't act like it's your fault, Evey. You did what you had to do, for yourself and for your friends. And you're not the only one who's had to cross that line. My dad was the one who shot Clayton."

Evelyn froze. "Tom killed Clayton?"

"Yup. Clayton went after me, so he shot him, killed him. And he's still that same paragon of virtue that he was before. Do you see him differently now?"

Evelyn considered for a moment. "No, not really."

"So why should I see you any differently?"

"Damn you and your logic. You've just totally invalidated like two months of self-loathing."

Hal nudged her with his elbow. "Glad to have helped."

Hal leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. He looked back at her huddled figure, her skin faintly glowing in the moonlight. "Evey, why did you jump on the skitter like that?"

Evelyn wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged them to her. "Not you too, Hal," Evelyn said, running her hands through her hair. Hal followed her example and sat up as well. "I've already gotten the speech from Maggie, and for some reason Weaver." For some reason a guilty expression fleeted across his face. Evelyn ignored it and continued on. "I don't need a lecture from you as well." She sighed. "Something tells me that I'm going to be getting one anyway. Do me a favor and keep it short."

Hal scratched the back of the head. "You could have died."

"So could you, Hal. You were about to, as I recall, before I descended from the sky like a fiery angel of vengeance and saved your ass."

Hal wasn't deterred. "But even after that you literally ran screaming right into enemy fire. Your plan worked and all, but it could just as easily have failed. It just seemed like—"

Evelyn cut him off. This was the part of the conversation where she had to break out the plausible half-truths. "I'm not suicidal or anything like that, Hal. I don't have I death wish. I just know what I am to this group, to the 2nd Mass. If the regiment is a functioning human body, I'm like its appendix. It's inconvenient if you lose it, what with the surgery and the puking and the stomach and all, but it is ultimately unnecessary to the healthy function of the human body. I'm not really needed here. Everyone else has family or someone depending on them, but I don't. So if someone has to go, it's better to drop the rock that causes the fewest ripples in the stream we like to call life."

A strange look passed over Hal's face. She had never seen it before, but it looked sad and tender and….something. "People need you here, Evey."

Evelyn laughed a bit and pushed herself into the sitting position. "I know people would miss me, Hal. I mean who wouldn't miss this face—" she went cross-eyed and pursed her lips, eliciting a micro-chuckle "—and don't even get me started on my glorious personality. I know I'm great to have around, but nobody _needs_ me. Nobody's happiness is contingent upon my survival. Hell, even Max has gone and gotten himself some functional relationships. If the internet still worked I'd go get myself ordained and marry him and Cecelia this very second. But me? I'm going to kick ass, take names, kill as many skitters as I can and keep as many people alive as possible. And I'm OK with that."

Hal looked as if he wanted to say something else, that weird look still on his face. He seemed to shake off whatever feeling was plaguing him.

They both laid back to look at the stars again, their heads next to each other and their feet pointing in opposite directions. Evelyn listened to his breathing. In, out, in, out. It had this sort of calming effect.

"Hey, Evey?"

"What is it now, Hal?"

"Do you want to play 'Drunk Astronomy'?"

Evelyn smiled. "Absolutely."

"Good, because the other day I noticed that if you cross your eyes a little and tilt your head to the right, Cassiopeia looks like a panda holding a broadsword." He gestured to the sky and Evelyn followed the direction to see where his finger was pointing.

"Yeah, I can see that."

**So, what did you think?**

**Review pretty please. They make me feel loved and my muse has a daily quota of love I need to fulfill. Otherwise she'll get sad and emo, and the banter will dry up leaving only the angsty teenage crap that invariably gets annoying.**

**Also, they kill skitters, so, REVIEW!**

**Love you guys. Thanks for the support.**


	15. It's Been 15 Chapters, Time for Evey to

**Disclaimer: I own neither 'Falling Skies' nor the canon characters. I'm just trying to recreate the awesomeness as accurately as possible, and hopefully adding in some awesomeness of my own.**

**For photos of my OCs, see my profile. Copy the links and delete the spaces.**

**There will be more Hal/Evelyn moments and more Maggie/Evelyn relationship development below.**

**Review and tell me how I've done! Pretty please!**

**On a similar note, reviews kill skitters. Fact. You don't need to bother researching that 'cause it's totally true.**

Chapter 15 – It's Been Fifteen Chapters, Time to Give Evey a Promotion

Over the next few days, Evelyn and Hal went out on a series of routine scouting missions and supplies runs. Sometimes they were accompanied by other including Maggie, Tom, Dai, Jimmy, Tony, or various other fighters that she didn't know all that well. All of the raids went according to plan, and Evelyn did her best not to break ranks and shirk orders. In fact, she had proved herself crucial to the success of several of the efforts. But then again nothing had really happened to compromise the missions at hand. There wasn't really any reason for her to engage in her "damned, reckless improvisation", as Weaver so eloquently put it. She was on best behavior. But somehow she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, monitored even. Sometimes she'd glance at others in her group and they would quickly look away from her. Apparently subtlety was not a strength of the members of the 2nd Mass. They would be shit at withstanding any sort of interrogation. When she shared her concerns with Hal, he would just tell her that she was being paranoid and walk away from her as soon as possible. Like that wasn't going to arouse suspicion. When she shared her concerns with Maggie on the other hand, the older girl verified them. Apparently she had been getting the same vibe. The conclusion was simple enough: she wasn't a fully trusted member of the 2nd Mass.

Five missions that went by without incident, but then Evelyn screwed up again. She got hurt again. Not badly, of course. It was really the most insignificant injury she had suffered so far. A couple of fighters had gone out to stockpile some more fuel. Something big was about to go down. Command was pretty tight-lipped about it, but whatever it was, they needed lots and lots of fuel. While they were out, they ran into a couple of mechs. Most of them ran for cover, but that kid, Jimmy, froze. He was a great soldier, but that didn't change the fact that he was still a thirteen-year-old boy. He should be worried about pimples and whether or not he would be getting asked to the Sadie Hawkins dance, not post-apocalyptic alien killer robots. Anyway, Evelyn had seen those lasers congregate on his chest, forming one solid beam. The kid was about to die, and she was not about to let that happen. She sprinted from her hiding spot behind the car, running full force towards Jimmy. She had vaguely heard Hal screaming at her to stop, but his voice was drowned out by the deafening sound of blood pumping through her ears. She collided with Jimmy, knocking him out of the range of the mech milliseconds before the shot was taken, and then she and the kid scrambled to safety behind a wood-paneled station wagon.

So there she was, sitting in the medical bay once again with a dislocated shoulder. She had wanted to re-set it herself on site, but Hal had straight-up refused, telling her to wait for, quote, "a real doctor, not some brain-dead adrenaline monkey." Then he had spent the entire ride back berating her for stupidity. He also didn't seem very pleased when Evelyn had fallen asleep in the middle of it.

"He was right, you know," Anne said as she examined Evelyn's shoulder. "You can do serious damage to the tendons and ligaments if you re-set your own dislocation. It's all about the angle, and when you do it yourself there is a high likelihood that you could twist them the wrong way."

Evelyn sighed and let her arm go completely limp so the doc could do her thing. "I know, I know. It just hurts like a son-of-a-bitch. And do me a favor and don't tell him that. He's infuriating when he's smug."

Anne gave her a knowing smile. Just what the hell was it that she thought she knew? "Hal cares about you a lot, Evelyn. Don't get mad at him for that. You do have a tendency to get yourself into a lot of scrapes, if you'll pardon the pun."

Evelyn slammed her good fist on the cold, metal table. "I will absolutely NOT pardon the pun!"

Anne just chuckled. At this point she knew better than to take Evelyn seriously.

At that moment Hal walked into the medical bay. "What the hell was that about?"

Evelyn blew at a piece of hair that had fallen into her face, but it just fell back into her eyes. "Anne was trying to be punny and I was having none of it." She blew at the stray piece of hair again, but was once again unsuccessful in removing it from her face. Hal walked up and tucked it behind her ear. Evelyn shivered internally a bit, ordering herself to get a grip. Hormones were stupid, but she wasn't.

Hal cleared his throat and took two steps back. "I also seem to recall saying something along the lines of 'Hal was right. He is incredibly smart and devilishly handsome'."

Evelyn laughed. "I'll give you two of those three options, you just have to pick them. That'll teach you to prioritize." Hal folded his arms and leaned against a nearby bed. "So," Evelyn continued, "did you come to see me scream and cry like a hungry, angry baby when the doc here fixes up my arm."

"Nice to know you're so confident in my skills," Anne interjected light-heartedly.

On the other hand, Hal's face visibly darkened. "Why would I ever want to see you cry? I've seen enough of that for a lifetime."

Evelyn started at his sudden sincerity. These days the banter seemed to sometimes shift into actual, serious conversation. It made her uncomfortable. With her good hand she absentmindedly twirled the hair that had escaped from her loose, messy bun. "Way to make it real, Hal," she said in a loud whisper.

Hal glanced at the floor. When he brought his head back up the cheeky smile she was used to had reemerged. "You want me to hold your hand?" he asked with a sly smirk.

"If you don't mind having a couple of bones broken in your hand when I clench up like a frigging vice grip."

Hal ignored her quip and walked up to the chair where she sat, taking her hand in his. Evelyn felt a few traitorous butterflies in her stomach. She silently told them to sit down and shut up. Her high school crush on Hal Mason was over and done with, and it would stay that way. Nothing could happen. Plus he was still in love with Karen. Why was she even thinking about this?

She shook her head to end her reverie and keyed into Anne's voice. "Alright, on the count of three. Hal, grab her other shoulder and brace it. It'll help keep her stable, I want to avoid damages to the ligaments." Hal nodded and placed a solid hand on her shoulder and nodded. "You ready? One, two—"

And then Evelyn felt the head of her humerus colliding with her scapula, the slight pop indicating that it had found its rightful place. "SON OF A BITCH! You said on the count of three you damned, dirty liar!"

Anne just smirked and gave her a simple "you're welcome" before fitting her with a sling.

At that point Dai appeared in the doorframe. Evelyn had a sneaking suspicion that he had been hiding out on the other side till she was all fixed up. "How's the patient."

Anne looked up at him from where she was adjusting the strap on the sling. "Belligerent, but that's to be expected."

Dai then looked to Hal. "Is she armed?"

Hal laughed. "As far as I know, but I wouldn't put it past her to still have an ice pick shoved down her boot, or perhaps a bazooka concealed somewhere about her person."

Dai sighed. "I guess I'll have to risk it then."

Evelyn was starting to get tired of being excluded from this little exchange which clearly concerned her. "Just spit it out, Dai. I promise I won't throw anything at you."

Dai took a few hesitant steps through the door. "OK. I've got a message from Weaver for you."

"OK, what's up."

"Alright, I have no say in this, so don't shoot the messenger." He paused for a moment. "I mean that seriously, Evelyn, don't shoot me."

Evelyn was beginning to get frustrated. "Just spit it out, Dai!"

"Weaver's taking you off tomorrow's raid." The words came out like one massive, rushed word, almost as if Dai didn't really want her to understand what it was that he had said.

There were a few moments of silence, the calm before the storm. Hal removed his hand from where it still held Evelyn's and backed away slowly, like a hiker trying to get away from a wounded bear. Evelyn's eyes widened a bit. "Oh, HELL NO!"

She jumped off the table, stormed out the room, and turned swiftly down the hall. As she left she could hear Hal's drawn-out proclamation of "well, shit".

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Evelyn was seething the entire way to Weaver's office, the soles of her boots coming into contact with the laminate floor probably with more force than was necessary. The metaphorical steam coming out of her ears in combination with her bright red hair made it seem as though her entire head was on fire. But the metaphor wasn't that far from the truth. Her anger was palpable. She blew past Maggie who made a gesture to greet her and stormed to the door of the office, wrenching it open without so much as a knock.

When she rounded the corner into the room, Weaver was sitting at his desk with two other people, Jimmy and an older grey-haired white guy who had also been on the supplies run, Gibson. At least she thought that was his name. When she entered the room abruptly, all eyes snapped to her. She could hear the scratching of chair legs against the floor as the two fighters turned to face her. Normally Evelyn hated this kind of scrutiny, but she was running on the fumes of her own rage.

She glared down at Jimmy and Gibson in a manner she hoped was intimidating. It seemed to work, because Jimmy visibly paled a little. Then again, the kid had always seemed a bit scared of her. The fact that she had just saved his life probably made him even less comfortable around her.

"There's a giant churro stand outside giving away free food. Why don't you two go check it out." It wasn't a question or a suggestion. The way the statement clawed its way through Evelyn's gritted teeth, it sounded like a threat.

Jimmy scrambled out of his chair and immediately headed towards the door, tripping slightly over the leg of the chair he was sitting in. Gibson simply looked at Weaver, awaiting an indication of what he should do. Weaver gave a curt nod and Gibson stood and calmly moved towards the door. As he came in line with Evelyn, he gave her a look that clearly said "watch yourself" and casually stepped through the open door. Evelyn pushed the door closed with a violent slam and turned to her commanding officer.

Weaver calmly folded the map splayed over his desk and pushed it aside. He folded his hands and placed them on the smooth surface in front of him. "How can I help you, Miss Walsh?"

His unflappable calmness irked Evelyn to no end. "The way you can _help_ me, Captain Crunch, is by putting me back on the fuel run."

Weaver narrowed his eyes at her, but the amused smirk that had formed on his face stayed in place. "Private, I seem to recall giving you specific orders not to call me by any name other than—"

"Right now I couldn't care less about your ego, Colonel Klink," Evelyn growled dropping into one of the two chairs and perching her dirty, boot-encased feet on his desk. "What I want to know right now if why you have such a humungous problem with me."

Weaver sat back in his chair and placed his feet on the desk, matching Evelyn's stance. "Well right now my issue is that I have an insubordinate little girl getting dirt all over my desk."

Evelyn rolled her eyes and folded her arms. "Don't be so obtuse, Caboose*******. You know exactly what I'm talking about." Weaver just shrugged his shoulders. Evelyn pushed her feet off the desk and leaned forward, staring him down. "I'm not an idiot. I know you've had your men keeping an eye on me. On me and Maggie both. I can kind of understand why you would keep Maggie under surveillance after everything that went down with Pope's gang. It's stupid and totally unnecessary, but I get it. But what exactly is it that I've done to warrant this kind oversight? I don't deviate from the plan and I don't do any reckless unless one of my men is in immediate danger, so why the HELL are—"

Weaver's face formed a wry smile. "That's why."

"Pardon?" Evelyn inquired, chagrined that he had interrupted her rant.

Weaver removed his feet from the desk, folding his hands and resting his elbows on the surface. He pointed an accusing finger at her. "You just referred to them as _your_ men."

Evelyn was a little taken aback. She hadn't even realized she thought that way, but now that she was confronted with her own words, there really wasn't any denying it. She had wanted to keep herself aloof from the group, forming attachments wasn't a good idea for her. She fucked up big time. Not only did she like these people, but she had invested heavily in them. If they did the same, if they invested in her, they would be disappointed. No matter how hard she tried they would be disappointed, it was the only way her story would end.

She got her feelings in order and reconstructed her façade. "Afraid I'm stepping on your toes, Major Crumpler?"

This time Weaver actually laughed at her little dig. "You are nothing if not insubordinate, Private Walsh. I have been keeping an eye on you. On that first mission I did have someone come to me to give me a heads up about your reckless behavior—don't ask me who it was because I'm sure as hell not going to be telling you—but that's not why you're here and that's not why I'm taking you off the next supplies run."

"So tell me, sir," she said shifting back into a marginally more respectful tone, "why am I here?"

"I've been telling my men, that's right Walsh, _my_ men, to keep an eye on you to see whether or not you could be taking on some more responsibility in my regiment."

That made Evelyn straighten up in her seat. "Say what now?" The statement came out as a single word.

Weaver chuckled at her bemusement. "You're good on your feet, kid. You follow orders, but you're not shackled by them. You think under fire, and that's not a quality everyone can claim to have. I was thinking of maybe making you a lieutenant."

He paused to gauge Evelyn's reaction, but all he was faced with was wide-eyed shock. So he continued. "Now, I took you off the fuel run because something bigger is coming, and I need you at your best when the time comes. So what do you say, red? You up for it?"

Evelyn considered for a moment. "What would this new gig entail?"

"Well, you'd sit in on meetings and give any relevant notes. Keep tabs on the men and the moral in the unit. Nothing too difficult. But you'll have to quit using the nicknames."

Evelyn stared at the ceiling and nodded to herself, and then extended her hand. Weaver took it and gave it a firm shake. "OK, I'll do it. And the nicknames will stay just between us, Sergeant Major Dickerson."

Weaver put two glasses on the desk and reached for something behind the desk. "I like to seal contracts with a drink. Don't tell Tom, I don't want a lecture. Gin or whiskey?"

Evelyn made a face at him and readjusted her sling, trying to make her arm more comfortable. "Clear alcohols are for rich women on diets."*

Weaver laughed, pouring brown liquid into the glasses and taking the one that contained more. He raised his glass at Evelyn who returned the gesture. "Girlie, I think we're going to get along just fine."

"I agree, Captain Kangaroo," she said, using her original moniker.

Weaver shook his head. "Careful, now. Just because I respect you doesn't mean I won't shoot you."

After a few more minutes of discussion, Evelyn got up and left the office. Once she exited she was suddenly confronted by Maggie leaning outside the door and jumped from surprise. "Fuck me! Mags, you know I hate it when you do that! Why the hell do people keep sneaking up on me like that? And why are you standing outside Weaver's office like a creepy, creepy stalker?"

Maggie pushed herself off the wall and joined her on the walk down the hallway. "People sneak up on you because you're surprised face is so damn cute. Your eyes go all wide. Like Bambi or a scared baby."

Evelyn laughed lightly. She rubbed at her forehead where a dull ache had settled, trying to dislodge that painful pressure. A concerned look washed over Maggie's face. "You're not getting the headaches again, are you? Please tell me you're not."

Evelyn shook her head vigorously. "I'm not. Or at least I don't think I am. I think I'm a little dehydrated and I just drank like three fingers worth of whiskey. I'm fine."

Maggie laughed, trying to look as if she was brushing off her worry, but it still stayed in her eyes a bit. "You're a light-weight is what you are."

Evelyn poked Maggie in the shoulder. "Hey, we couldn't all be the cool chick with the motorbike and tattoos in high school. Some of us had to be involuntarily antisocial nerds. But then again, I always felt like the nerds were more interesting than the jocks. Something about overcoming social adversity and all that jazz."

Maggie let a bitter laugh. "Well you know how my story turned out. Being the cool chick doesn't usually end as well as it starts out." Maggie shook her head. "But I don't buy it. You went to college for two years and never went to a frat party."

"Yeah, Mags," Evelyn responded, her voice steeped in sarcasm, "the frat boys looked at their liquor collection, bean bag chairs, condom jar, and gaggle of drunken sorority chicks and said 'You know what this shindig needs? A minor.'"

Maggie gave her a sidelong glance. "It probably didn't help that you use words like 'shindig'. You sound like Miss Marple."

"Hey! Don't knock Miss Marple. She was a badass."

The two of them walked out to the front of the school and took a seat on the front steps. Maggie pulled out a hunting knife and a whetstone and began to sharpen that knife. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

Evelyn sighed. "You know stuff like this is why people think that you might just be a psychopath."

"Yeah, well, fuck 'em. Some people, you let them in your circle of trust and they take advantage. If they know I'm fully capable of kicking their ass into next week, they'll know not to mess with me."

Maggie just kept scraping away. Then she stopped suddenly, and turned to face the younger girl. "You are feeling OK, aren't you chickadee? 'Cause you know you can tell me if you're not. I won't freak out or anything."

"Of course, Mags. You'll be the first to know—" Evelyn gave her a stern look "—and the only one, catch my drift. If the headaches come back for real, I'll tell you."

"Good."

They passed a few minutes in silence and Evelyn leaned her head on Maggie's shoulder. "So apparently I'm a lieutenant now."

She could hear the smile creeping into Maggie's face as she spoke. "Yup. You always were the over achiever. And the teacher's pet. If anyone else called Weaver 'Captain Kangaroo' they'd be on latrine duty before you could asay 'insubordination'."

"I guess this makes you my bitch, doesn't it?"

Maggie laughed. A clear, genuine laugh. "Wasn't I already, chickadee? This just makes it official. So what's your first move going to be as a lieutenant of the great 2nd Massachusetts Regiment?"

"That's an easy question. I'd think the answer would be obvious."

Maggie shrugged Evelyn's head off her shoulder. "Well it's not to me, so spit it out."

"Casual Fridays. Obviously."

**Thanks to everyone who reads, reviews, follows, and favorites my story. You're feeding the Muse that lives in my brain.**

**I've recently had my hours at work increased, so I probably won't be able to post every day like I have been doing. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I think 64,000 words in like two weeks seems pretty impressive to me. Aw who am I kidding, I'm honking that horn like a madperson. But still, I'm going to still keep posting chapters as soon as they're finished, but it might not be as quick anymore.**

**POP CULTURE REFERENCES ('cause credit should go where it's due):**

*****If you understand this pop culture reference, you're officially one of my favorite people ever.**

***"Clear alcohols are for rich women on diets." Taken from the illustrious Ron Swanson of Parks and Recreation. I can't claim to have written a sentence that awesome.**


	16. Cavemen vs Astronauts

**Someone commented that Evelyn is kind of becoming a Mary Sue, and I'd like to say thanks for your input. It is a little weird how she knows the Masons and Maggie, but she knows them for very different reasons (Maggie's connection is yet to be revealed). She did NOT know Harris before the invasion. She met him when he was picked up by the 7th Mass. Also, I feel like Harris hated her a little. There is also a reason she was familiar enough with the medical stuff to help out Harris (she didn't come up with out of nowhere). In my opinion, Teddy was the one who saved the kids of the 7th Mass, Evey just served as the impetus, right time right place type deal. Teddy did all the actual work (RE: the bus, the kids, getting everything together; Evelyn kind of selfishly went off to save her BFF while Teddy did all the saving of the kids). She's also kind of blown off Anne and hospital work 'cause she's not "feelin' it". Also, while she and Hal banter a lot, he is really irritated with her because she's hiding things from him, and he knows it. Finally, she's all self-sacrificing for a reason, yet to be revealed. **

**I really do appreciate the input, and will adjust accordingly. The reason I was so worried about Mary Sue-ing is because this escapism stuff is a bit about wish-fulfillment for me. I have been worried about her being too badass, which is kind of why I'm getting her injured all the time. Thank you. I would really appreciate it if 'Guest' would continue to read and give notes on my progress.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Falling Skies'. All of the dialogue used below that seems familiar is not my own, but taken from the program.**

Chapter 16 – Cavemen vs. Astronauts

Hal looked straight into her eyes, his annoyingly handsome features marred by shock and disbelief. "No. No no no. Evey, you can not be serious right now."

She ran her hand through her messy, tangled hair and let out a long breath. "I'm sorry Hal, but I am. And you're not going to be able to change my mind about it."

He balled up his hands and brought them to his forehead. He was getting really frustrated. "I just can't wrap my mind around this. After everything that's happened to you, to me, to the 2nd Mass, to well, everyone, and that's your opinion?"

Evelyn gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes. "_Yes_, Hal. That's my opinion. Alien invasion over zombie apocalypse, any day of the week. I don't see what's so confusing about that."

Hal shook his head, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish some sadistic kid decided to remove from its bowl. "Um, maybe it's the fact that I can't use the internet anymore, maybe it's the fact that I can't take heated showers, maybe it's the fact that 90% of the earth's population blinked out of existence. Any of those little events ring a bell?"

The two of them had started the conversation while looking for Ben before heading out for lunch, but somehow they had lost track of their hunger and had been aimlessly wandering the school for about a twenty minutes. Also, they had been discussing this topic for longer than was socially acceptable. But Hal just wouldn't see reason. "Seriously, Hal, think about it for like a millisecond," she said, slamming her fist into her open palm for emphasis. "In all alien invasion scenarios I've _ever_ heard of—and you know what a huge nerd I am—the alien menace has some sort of motivation for their actions. Motivation makes all the difference. Motivation means something can ultimately be defeated." Evelyn probably looked like a crazy-person, waving her one good hand around for emphasis while actively reminding herself that the other one had to stay in its sling. It was a wonder she hadn't impaled anyone during her explanation. It was also possible that all those worried looks had something to do that there was an assault rifle hanging off the crazy injured girl's shoulder. But those looks didn't deter her. If people thought she was crazy, that's their problem, not hers. "It's like your dad always says in those history rants, if we make enough trouble for them, they'll leave. Zombies are a _completely _different story," she said, drawing out her words.

"But—"

"No 'buts' Hal! All zombies want are brains. All that's left is that primal need for food. They have no though thought, no life, no anima, nothing to lose and nothing to win. All they want is Soilent Green. And Soilent Green is people, Hal, never forget that. You can't reason with them, you can't negotiate with them, and don't even get me started on incubation period. You never who's dangerous and who's not! I mean—"

Hal threw his hands up in defeat. "OK, OK, I yield! I concede! I give up!"

Evelyn pursed her lips and nodded curtly. "Good, 'cause—"

Hal reached out and put his hands on her shoulders. "I conceded, Evey. You won. You're the 'master debater' as you so gleefully and immaturely like to call it." Hal couldn't quite hide the half-smile that formed on his face. "Seriously, you win. Now, for the love of GOD will you stop talking?"

Evelyn stuck her tongue out at him. "Sure Hal, I will as soon as you make the agreed upon declaration."

Hal shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels a bit. "Do I have to? We made that agreement when we were ten years old."

Evelyn gave him a stern look. He had labeled it her 'mom' look. "Hal, just because the paperwork has likely been incinerated, it doesn't mean the contract is void."

Hal let out a disgusted sigh and adopted an unenthusiastic, monotone voice. "Fine. I yield unto thee this verbal victory, oh Queen Evelyn, the dainty-foot."

Evelyn's face was graced by a superior smirk. "Now was that so difficult. All it cost you was your self-respect." The last sentence came out in a singsong voice. Hal growled vaguely and lightly punched her in her good shoulder.

"And you wonder why you don't have more friends."

'Please, Hal. I know exactly why I don't have more friends." Hal gave her a look that was a bit pained. "It's my awesomeness. People just can't handle it."

Hal just laughed. "You're an idiot, you know that."

Evelyn looked around. She hadn't really been paying much attention to where they were walking, and they had ended up in the school parking lot. Evelyn studied the ground and picked at the gravel with the toe of her boot. She really didn't know what it was that was going on between her and Hal. They were partners, that much was obvious. They had each others' backs in a fight, they took care of each other, even when the other was being a complete idiot. There was banter, but sometimes Evelyn felt that the banter might occasionally segway into flirting. Having been classified as a social reject between the ages of thirteen and seventeen, she wasn't very good with any sort of romantical interactions. She didn't know how to identify flirting, let alone be an active participant in it. Usually she thought she was probably just making it up, but sometimes she caught Hal looking at her with an expression on his face that she really couldn't define. Ultimately she decided it was confusion or guilt that he felt after having ignored her for the last four or five years. Apparently she had been lost in thought a little too long because Hal thought it appropriate to kick some gravel at her. She snapped out of it and looked back up.

"You had that zombies vs. aliens argument locked, loaded, and ready for delivery long before the invasion, didn't you?"

"Of course I did, Hal. I'm a self-professed nerd. These are the things nerds think about when not acing tests or solving the energy crisis. Semper paratus, bitch."

Hal threw his hand to his mouth in mock offense. "There's no need for name-calling, Evey. That's just hurtful. And now I'm hungry, are we getting lunch or not? Let's go find Ben, then it's chow time. If we miss lunch, I am NOT going to be happy."

"Boys and their food." Evelyn gestured for Hal to lead the way. "Uncle Scott mentioned something about seeing him out back by the buses." The two of them made their way through the school and out the back entrance. Evelyn could hear the gentle, repetitive 'thwack' of something hitting the ground from behind one of the buses.

Hal called out. "Hey, Ben, you out here? You're going to miss lunch!"

They rounded the corner of the bus to find Ben jumping rope. Evelyn could see the evil-snarky-older brother smile steal onto Hal's face. She loved that smile on him. Always had. To her it was synonymous with family. Upon seeing his brother engaged in some sort of physical exertion, Hal began a slow clap. Evelyn nudged him in the side. "Be nice, Hal."

He responded in a hushed tone. "I'm always nice, Evey." A statement which, of course, was followed by an obligatory eye-roll. Hal went on to goad Ben some more in that light-hearted sibling-y way. "Look at this. I remember when your idea of exercising was reorganizing Dad's bookshelf."

Ben just looked at his feet, awkwardly holding the jump rope to his chest. Then he glanced at the stop-watch on the ground next to him. Hal noticed and pretty soon they were both scrambling to get at the thing.

Evelyn leaned against the bus and let out an exasperated sigh. "Seriously, boys. Do you ever behave yourselves?"

Hal managed to grab hold of the watch and took a couple of steps away from Ben, wearing his most irritating self-satisfied smirk. "Come on, Evey. Behave ourselves? What would be the fun in that?" He glanced down to the watch, then back up at Ben again. His face changed rapidly from one of light-hearted teasing to one that was visibly etched with concern. He glanced back down at the watch a second time, just to be sure of what he saw. "Two hours and forty minutes? Are you padding your stats?"

That got Evelyn's full attention. She stiffened, straightening up slightly in her position against the bus. Two hours and forty minutes and Ben hadn't even broken a sweat. That wasn't normal.

Ben took a second to respond. "Unh. M-must have hit the button before I came out."

From Evelyn's angle, she couldn't really see Ben's face, but his posture was a guilty one: shoulders slumped and looking at the floor. If Ben really wanted to start getting away with stuff, he seriously needed to find himself a better poker face. Hal didn't really seem to be buying it either. Hal hesitantly walked back up to his brother and looked him in the eye. "Everything's all right, huh?"

Ben nodded a bit. "Yeah, sure. Let's eat." He grabbed the stopwatch out of Hal's hand and walked quickly towards the school. When he passed Evelyn she could see his finger frantically pushing the 'clear time' button on the watch.

Hal watched his brother go for a few moments and then continued on after him, his face still wearing an expression of confusion mixed with a not-insignificant amount of fear. There was definitely something going on with Ben, and she could see that it terrified him. Evelyn fell into step next to him. She could see his jaw clench and unclench with frustration. As they made their way towards the school, the backs of their hands kept brushing each other, so Evelyn eventually just took his hand in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze that she hoped would provide some modicum of comfort. To her surprise, Hal squeezed back. They walked hand and hand until they reached the rest of the 2nd Mass, at which time Hal quickly let go. Evelyn rubbed the tips of her fingers together, wondering what the problem was, until she realized that someone else would get the wrong idea and misinterpret the simple gesture of platonic friendship as something more than it actually was.

She, Hal, and Ben silently made their way through the lunch line, waiting for the mystery gloop of the day. She could tell that Hal really wanted to say something to Ban, but just couldn't spit it out. He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly struggling for a way to divest himself of the verbal blockage.

In the distance Evelyn could hear the cry of a very familiar, very impolite voice. "Oi, Spiky! Over here!"

Ben turned around and smiled his first genuine smile of the day when he saw Amy waving him over. He turned back to Hal and Evelyn. "Hey, guys. I'm going to eat lunch with Amy today if that's cool."

Hal scratched the back of his head and held out his plate for a ladle of mystery gloop. "Yeah. Sure. Go ahead, I guess." Ben quickly ran off to join the yellow-haired monster. He turned back to Evelyn as she received her food. "You responsible for that?" he said, jerking his head in the direction of Amy and Ben.

Evelyn grimaced and sucked in a breath. "Yeah, 'fraid so."

Hal nodded absently. "Don't be. I think it's probably good for him. Keeping him in the world and all that." He started walking off, but then turned back to where Evelyn was standing. "You coming?"

Evelyn smirked at him. "Just enjoying the view."

Hal blinked in shock for a couple of seconds before recovering his wits. He assembled his features into an expression of contempt. "Don't objectify me, Evey. It's rude and you're making me uncomfortable to be around you."

Evelyn just raised a single eyebrow and Hal broke down laughing. She shook her head. "You never could hold yourself together when doing a bit. I'd say you'd never make it in Hollywood, but that seems rather unnecessary at this point."

Hal sat down on the ground and looked over in Ben's direction. Evelyn followed the direction of his gaze. Ben seemed happy. Amy was currently using a plastic spoon to flick her peas at him and he was hiding behind his arms, trying to defend himself from the onslaught. Evelyn turned back to study Hal's face. "You want to talk about it?"

Hal let out a long slow breath. "There's not much use in avoiding the issue, is there? I mean, it was obvious he was lying. I just don't know what it means. He's different, you know. He's not the same little math geek anymore."

"People change, Hal. Especially when they've been through something traumatic. It changes you. You can't be disappointed that he's different. It'll do nothing but hurt him, and you. There's a point where you just have to accept the changes in him and in yourself. Otherwise you'll go crazy. Trust me, I know." Hal cast her an inquiring glance.

"What do you mean?"

Evelyn chewed her lip. She wasn't sure she wanted to relive this story, but Hal needed some perspective. "Well," she said affecting a certain degree of levity in her voice, "you know I didn't used to be this scary and untrusting, right?"

Hal snorted. "No, you weren't."

"Yeah, well there's a reason for that. And this story doesn't get repeated. To anyone." She looked at him poignantly and he just nodded in response. She paused for a moment, gritting her teeth and willing herself to continue. "When the skitters hit, I was at home for spring break. It was me and Julia. Well, the skitters raided our house. I hid in the kitchen cupboard, Julia didn't know I was there. She thought I was still in my room, but I had come downstairs to see if she was OK. Anyway, I heard her trying to trade me to the skitters. It was before we even knew about the harnesses or any of that stuff, she just wanted to live and apparently was willing to throw me at them to slow them down."

Hal looked at her with wide eyes, "Jesus, Evey. I nev—"

Evelyn shook her head. "I don't want pity, Hal. I'm just trying to make a point. Look, that day I felt like had no control, no power. But I did. I shoved a melon-baller into that skitters eye and ran like hell. The point is that that kind of helplessness does something to you, and Ben was the literal definition of helpless. He was a puppet. He had no control over his own body. He won't ever be the same kid again, and you need to realize that."

Hal nodded. "I get that, I really do. But him jumping rope….I'm not crazy right? He was lying, he actually was jumping the whole time?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Fuck, Evey. What did they do to him?"

"I really don't know, Hal. But I will tell you one thing. He's even more scared of it than you are. What we saw was him trying to figure out what he is now."

Hal brought his knees up to his chest and folded his arms against them, then burying his face. "I just wish he would talk to me. I'm his brother, doesn't that mean anything?"

Evelyn put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be stupid, Hal. It means everything. He won't talk to you _because_ you're his brother. You're opinion of him matters more. He's afraid of what you'll think." She looked at him. He looked so broken. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

Hal shook his head, never lifting it from where it was ensconced in his arms. "No. Not yet, anyway. Right now I want to talk about anything else."

"OK." Evelyn chewed on her nails, trying to come up with a new topic of conversation. "OK, I got it. If cavemen and astronauts got into an all-out take-no prisoners war, who would win?"

Hal lifted his head. "Do the astronauts get space age weapons?"

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

The cavemen vs. astronauts debate, much like the zombies vs. aliens debate, lasted much longer than what any well-adjusted human being could be considered 'normal'. Hal, in typical 'guy' form, had come down on the side of cavemen, and once again Evey had to set him straight. Suffice to say, the phrase "I yield unto thee this verbal victory, oh Queen Evelyn, the dainty-foot" did enter the conversation at one point. Unfortunately the debate caused her to lose track of time. She was late for her meeting with 'the confederacy of dunces,' or, as they were known to the rest of the 2nd Mass, upper command. There was probably a time when a teenager running down the halls of a high school with an automatic rifle slung over her back was a troubling image, but things certainly had changed over the past year. That sort of thing was now commonplace.

She rounded the corner, crashing into the room that had been designated for the meeting. Her boots slipped on the laminate floor and she ended up colliding with one of the desks that had been pushed along the wall. She quickly stood up and straightened her clothes before looking up to see three men staring at her: Tom, Weaver, and an older grey-haired man who she assumed was Porter.

Porter was the first to speak. His voice was gruff and had a vauge. "I take it this is the crazy-ass redhead you mentioned."

Evelyn raised her hand to her forehead and gave a weak salute, still panting from her sprint down the halls. "That I am, sir."

"Well sit down, shut up, and don't interrupt. I don't really think you should be here to begin with, so just make yourself as inconspicuous as possible." Porter turned back to Tom and Weaver.

Weaver picked up in the conversation that she had so unceremoniously interrupted. "Tom's right. School's compromised, they know where we are now. We need to pull up stakes."

Porter nodded to himself, taking a long draught of coffee. "Most times I'd agree, but the situation on the ground has changed. Spotters tell me the skitters are all pulling back. They're converging on that structure over Boston."

Tom was the next to speak. "Yeah, clearing the field of battle? Could be the first step in launching an offense."

Porter nodded to himself. "I've been in contact with the resistance in L.A. and Chicago. It's the same story all over."

Evelyn's eyes widened. "Shit, that could mean a coordinated strike. Take us all out at once."

Porter turned back to face her. "If I tell you to stay quiet, I expect you to do it." He turned back to Tom and Weaver. "She's not wrong though. That's actually what we're afraid of. We're not waiting for them to make the next move. The time table for our coordinated attack on that structure has been moved up. In four days, we're taking this war to them."

The three men walked into the hallway with Evelyn trailing behind. Tom was the one to voice the thoughts rattling around in her head. "Four days. That's short notice."

Porter shook his head. "Can't afford any delay. Every time these bastards change tactics on us we end up getting hurt bad. Listen, Tom. I want you to take a scout into the city tomorrow. Identify secure routes for your vehicles. Give me one last good eyeball recon on that structure."

Weaver seemed troubled by the logistics of it all. "Downtown's a long haul. We've got to have units closer in."

"We did have units closer in. The 7th Mass started to pull back, the aliens hit them hard. Terry Clayton may have been a son-of-a-bitch, but he wasn't lying about the 7th."

"They're gone?" Tom asked with wide eyes.

"Good riddance," Evelyn muttered under her breath, her voice tinged with bitterness. But apparently she wasn't quiet enough because Porter rounded on her.

"Watch it. Clayton broke the most basic rules of human decency, but there were other people in that unit, good people, who didn't deserve what they got. And I'll thank you to give them the respect due to them." Evelyn nodded to herself. This man clearly didn't care for her, but after that last statement she couldn't really disagree with him. Maybe he took insubordination even more seriously than Weaver did. Maybe it was the fact that she was late to the meeting. He looked like a dyed in the wool military man, even more so than Weaver. Any sort of tomfoolery or visible shirking of responsibility was unacceptable. If that were the case, she could definitely understand the waves of disdain which seemed to wash in her general direction. Porter took a breath and continued. "And we lost contact with the 4th and the 5th. The attack plan remains the same. Four units assigned to each leg of the structure. Blow those demo charges simultaneously, the structure collapses. Which brings me to the issue of demo and high explosives. How are we doing on that?"

Weaver shook his head slightly. "Raw materials aren't a problem, but we've stalled on ability."

Tom interrupted him. "Our people don't have the most expertise in the making of bombs. Something that I normally take comfort in, but at this point it's a bit of an inconvenience."

Evelyn cleared her throat, hesitant to draw any more attention to herself. "Um. Yeah, about that. I have a bit of an idea."

She was silent for a few moments. All three men were staring at her. Porter looked at her like someone would look at an ant through a magnifying glass, trying to set it on fire. Weaver was the one to speak. "Spit it out, Walsh."

"I don't think that you're going to like it all that much, but desperate times and all that…."

Tom put a hand on her shoulder. "Evey, just tell us what you had in mind."

Evelyn let out a long, slow breath.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

The four figures walked towards the medical bay. Evelyn couldn't help but feel exceedingly short standing next to these men. She walked up to Anne, who was standing behind Rick, looking over some drawings that he was making. Personally Evelyn had never seen the point in this so-called 'art therapy,' but she wasn't going to tell Anne that.

"How's the patient?"

Anne grimaced. "Recovering. And reminding me every day why I specialized in pediatrics."

Evelyn smiled awkwardly. These days she always felt guilty around Anne. She had made a commitment to her to help out in the medical bay, and she had completely bailed. It was still just Anne and Lourdes taking care of bullet wounds, infections, and the flu. Two people against three hundred. Evelyn could feel some resentment, some friction between her and Anne that hopefully they would be able to get through eventually. Evelyn didn't have any intention of going back to work in the medical bay, she just hadn't worked up the courage to disappoint Anne just yet. So for now she resorted back to that light-hearted banter that usually managed to smooth over unpleasant situations. "What are you talking about Anne? He is a child. A greasy, emotionally stunted, criminal child."

Anne guided them to the bed and yanked back the curtain. Porter took in the disheveled appearance of the man before him. "Who the hell is this?"

Pope was eating beans straight out of a can. He had aggravated his leg injury and found himself back in the hospital bed. His apathetic gaze soaked in the appearance of the figures looming over him. Undaunted, he just dug his spoon back into the can and smacked his lips. "The name's Pope. You must be Porter. I'd stand and salute but, uh." He gestured to his leg with the spoon.

Porter looked at Evelyn with a look disbelief mixed with a bit of contempt. "That's your plan? Isn't he the ex-con that fired on your unit?"

Pope waved his spoon at Porter. "That is so five weeks ago."

"Oh," Evelyn said, her words dripping with sarcasm, "Five weeks. The statute of limitations is up then. We no longer have a right to feel bitter about that you tried to steal the 50 cal and shot up some men."

Pope jerked his back and stared at her with derision. "What the hell do you mean 'we', ginger," he said using his free hand to form air quotes, "You weren't even here. I don't see why you get to have a problem."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Get a grip, Pope. Tell them what you told me the other day during that barrage of verbal self-aggrandizement."

Pope continued to chew on his food, looking her up and down with an appraising look. – "Sure will, darling. Just as soon as you tell me your name."

Evey grabbed the can of beans from his hand and smacked him on the side of his head. "I will not hesitate to shoot you. Just tell them."

Pope looked between her and Porter, deciding whether or not he should speak. "I hear you're looking to drive a truck load of high-test into the skitter palace downtown. That sounds like one tricky piece of demolition."

Porter looked skeptical. "And you know something about demolitions?"

Pope nodded. "A thing or two. You know, around the water cooler."

"That makes you some kind of expert?"

Evelyn scoffed. "Around his watercooler it does."

Pope clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together. "Listen chief, you do this thing wrong and odds are you're going to blow up your little scout trip before you ever roll into downtown Boston. And it would make me oh-so sad if I couldn't see red's pretty little face ever again."

Evelyn gagged. "Ugh. You make me want to take up bulimia as a hobby."

At that point Weaver wandered off almost in a dreamlike state, for some reason heading towards Rick. Evelyn kept an eye on him. He hadn't been getting much sleep lately, and Evelyn was beginning to question his judgment. From the expression on Tom's face, she could tell he was thinking the same thing. Weaver seemed to be looking through the pictures Rick was drawing when Porter's voice snapped her back to attention. "Now someone give me one good reason why we should trust that guy."

Tom tore his eyes away from Weaver as well. "We shouldn't. Other than that he came back for Hal and Matt. He makes bread. And Evey's right, we don't have a lot of options."

Porter nodded in defeat. He shifted a bit where he stood and folded his arms. "Alright Pope, convince me."

Tom wandered off as well, subtly monitoring Weaver who seemed to be quietly berating Rick for something.

Pope cracked his neck. "Everything I know was shown by an ex-marine who used to live in Dorchester."

Evelyn hesitantly broke into the conversation as well. "I have a friend here, Max, who's also an ex-marine. He never did any of the designs for demolitions, but he could definitely help with the assembly and that kind of stuff. He's familiar with the wiring, and he could probably keep Pope in line too."

Pope snorted. "Max? The one-legged dude in a wheel-chair? How exactly is he going to keep me in line?"

Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose. "That's rich coming from a guy who refuses to get out of his bed." She turned to Porter. "Max is dependable, he's good at what he does. And he would jump at the chance to have any sort of role in this fight, even if it involves sitting behind a table of metal and wires."

Porter brought his fist up to his mouth and nodded. "Alright. It's not a great plan, but it's all we got." He walked up to Anne, Tom, Weaver, and Rick who seemed to be embroiled in some sort of vaguely hostile interaction. Evelyn stayed a few steps behind him. "Alright, he knows a thing or two about demolitions. But he's design only. I don't want him anywhere near the raw materials. And he's under guard at all times. You two get those damn demolition charges made."

The four of them began to walk out of the medical bay when Rick spoke for what seemed the first time in days. "Take it." He held a drawing out to Weaver. "Take it."

Weaver walked away, clearly troubled be the interaction. He probably wasn't going to get any sleep that night, Evelyn thought to herself. She watched Rick for a few more moments before turning and walking away from the medical bay.

They were off to war. The real question was, were they the cavemen or the astronauts.

**Thanks for favoriting/reading/reviewing/following.**

**This was my first foray into the actual dialogue of the show. I'm trying to keep in as much as I can, but adding in some of my own to prevent excessive repetition. So let me know how I'm doing on that front. **

**Also, I'm trying to un-Mary Sue Evelyn.**

**If you hadn't guessed, the zombies vs aliens debate is one that I've had with my friends multiple times. Evelyn's opinion is the same as mine, and it's the right one.**

**Cavemen vs. astronauts is a reference to an episode of Joss Whedon's 'Angel'**

**REVIEWS KILL SKITTERS.  
**


	17. Eye of the Tiger

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Falling Skies'. Anything you recognize isn't mine. Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show. I only own my OCs.**

**Photos of all my OCs are on my profile. Just copy the links and delete the spaces.**

**I constructed a playlist for the story. It is also on my profile. Check it out and tell me what you think! Seriously! Also, I'm open to musical suggestion.**

**Also, I was wondering if people were losing interest in the fic. Is it boring or does it drag on too much? Should I include more fight scenes, romance, etc.? Too much Evelyn introspection? Too little? Please review.  
**

Chapter 17 – Eye of the Tiger

Evelyn sat in the music room, running her fingers gently over the keys, gently enough for them to move under her fingers but without so much pressure that the notes actually sounded. She absolutely loved that sensation. There was so much unrealized potential in it. If you pressed just a little bit harder, the notes would form something, anything. It could be Chopsticks or Tchaikovsky. Vanilla Ice or Vivaldi. Sitting in front of that piano, she felt like she was staring into a sea of infinite possibility. Music had as much potential as the human race did, it was a sort of external manifestation of life itself. After the invasion, music was pretty difficult to come by. She had missed it the entire time she was with the 7th Mass, until she had learned to find it in other places. While still stuck at that old, dirty warehouse, she used to climb that one oak tree, lean against the trunk, and close her eyes, letting the sounds of the winds through the trees and the lapping of the waves on the shore of that lake just wash over her. The symphony of nature.

That was part of why Evelyn hated hospitals so much. There never was any music, just the infuriating beep-beep-beep of the heart monitors and the garbled sound of nurses speaking over the intercom. You couldn't even latch on to that melody created by nature itself. All there was was steel and plastic and antiseptic and needles. That was why Evelyn had left Anne and Lourdes to do their work alone. It wasn't just that she was spread way too thin, it was that if she was going to die, it would be where there was music.

There were really only two options in hospitals, you live or you die, and when she stood in those small rooms for too long, she began to feel closer to the dead than the living. But out in the world, where there was music, anything could happen. Anyway, Evelyn would be of more use in the field. After a good, long heart-to-heart, Anne had graciously released her from her obligations at the medical bay. The disappointment in Anne's face had cut her to the bone, but that disappointment was mixed with understanding. And curiosity. Why were people always so damn curious?

Evelyn continued to lightly move her fingers over the keys. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't realize someone had come in. She didn't hear the footsteps crossing the laminate floor towards where she sat. Needless to say she was quite surprised when a figure suddenly appeared right next to her.

"If you keep fondling the piano like that you're going to be facing some serious litigation. Harassment is a serious offense now, Evey." Hal leaned himself against the side of the piano that easy smile firmly implanted on his face.

Evelyn just looked down at the keys and began to pluck out the notes of a familiar song. Nothing too complicated or grandiose. Just something that reminded her of her youth. The happy bits.

When Hal caught on to the tune, he snorted. "Rusted Root? You've got Bach and Mozart hanging out in your back pocket and you choose to play Rusted Root?"

Evelyn sighed. "There's a time and a place for everything, Hal, especially with music. I happen to be feeling particularly nostalgic right now and it just so happens that 'Send Me on My Own Way' by Rusty Root brings up happy memories. Chasing fireflies in the backyard while mom was busy with one of those charity dinners, jumping in puddles, and the rest of that Halmark bullshit everyone pretends to disdain, but secretly love."

Hal sat down next to her, nudging her to the side a bit so he could fit on the chair. "It kind of reminds me of my first kiss."

Evelyn smiled and poked him in the shoulder. "Ah that's _right_. You and Melissa Etheridge. You got to be the only boy in the 6th grade to kiss Melissa Etheridge before she moved to Tampa. Casanova from age twelve. Ben went on and on about it for days." Her fingers continued plucking away at the keys. She shot Hal a sly glance. "Tell me, Hal, did she send you on you're way or vice versa. How did 'Halissa' cease to be?"

Hal grimaced. "'Halissa'? Really, Evey, you're better than that."

Evelyn laughed. "Yeah, it was a bad moment."

Hal scratched at the back of his neck. "Well, there never actually was a 'Halissa'. I kind of made it up to annoy Ben."

"Men and their egos. Well if it wasn't the illustrious Miss Etheridge, then who was it?"

Hal furrowed his eyebrows with confusion, and possibly a little hurt. "You don't remember?"

"Remember…..what?"

"It was you."

Evelyn brought her fingers down on the keys heavily, giving rise to a giant clanging noise that was hardly euphonious. "Excuse me?"

"We were eleven, handing out with Matt and Ben in the backyard—that song was playing—and Ben dared me to kiss you so I did. Then you shoved me, yelled something about 'cooties' and threw my own shoe at me." He looked at Evelyn's face which was etched with confusion and disbelief. "Nice to see it was so memorable," he laughed uncomfortably.

Evelyn snorted. "Yeah, well I was really, _really_ drunk that day so…..memory issues?"

Hal smiled and nodded his head. The awkwardness in the room after that little interchange was palpable. Evelyn's hands were clenching the side of the piano bench while Hal's were folded in his lap. Outwardly he looked calm enough, but his knuckles were white. Yeah, it was awkward.

Evelyn cleared her throat and attempted to change the topic. "So…is there any news on the scouting mission Porter wanted us to do."

Hal brought his head back up. "Hm, what? Oh, yeah. We're suiting up in fifteen and heading out within the hour. I should—I should probably go. Talk to dad and all that." He abruptly stood up and walked towards the door.

"Hal, wait!"

He spun around, arms swinging out a bit. He was chewing on his lower lip. "What's up?"

Evelyn gave him a soft smile. "At least let me play you out." And she started enthusiastically banging out the chords of 'Eye of the Tiger'. This had Hal back in stitches. To get himself psyched up for his lacrosse games, he would blare that song as loud as the speakers could possibly go. Hal loved that song, and not in an ironic way. He started singing alone to it and jumping up and down a bit. When the song ended he was laughing and a little out of breath from the calisthenics. "You know my warm-up routine? Who's the creepy voyeur now, Walsh?"

"Hal, you played that song so loud the windows in my room rattled from the bass. It was hardly state secrets. Actually it was more like being physically assaulted with sound."

Hal just smiled at her. She stood up and walked past him, punching him in the shoulder as she went by. She paused at the doorframe and looked back at Hal who was still staring at the piano. "Hey! Snap to it, soldier! We've got to go scout the crap out of an alien aircraft carrier. Come on. Eye of the tiger, buddy. Let's go get weaponized."

Hal turned to her, pivoting on a heel with his hands shoved in his pockets. "Eye of the Tiger?"

Evelyn nodded, "You bet your ass, Eye of the Tiger."

She held the door open as Hal walked through it. She said a silent goodbye to the piano, not sure whether or not she's see it again, and silently shut the door.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Hal, Evelyn, and Dai were all in the armory, silently suiting themselves up for the scout. Evelyn was in the middle of fitting herself with a shoulder harness when Tom entered abruptly, nodding to them as he walked in. Hal did a slight double take when he saw his father's face. He shoved a pistol into his shoulder harness and leaned in slightly. "I know that 'Weight of the world' look, Dad. What's up?"

"What's _not_?" Tom responded.

To Evelyn his voice sounded monotone, lifeless. "I believe that's the textbook definition of evasive conversation tactics. I took psyc 101. I know these things. What's got your goat?" Evelyn saw his expression change a bit, so she followed up with another question. "Who's got your goat?"

Tom took in a breath, glancing between his son and Evelyn. He shoved his surveillance gear into his pack. "Have any of you guys noticed anything different about Weaver?"

Dai raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, he's been different since I met him."

Evelyn pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail, furrowing her eyebrows in consideration. "He seems overly tired. I mean, we're all functioning on low sleep, but I don't think he's getting any at all."

Hal nodded vaguely. "Why do you ask?"

Tom sighed heavily. "Well, yesterday he kind of laid into Rick for no reason at all. I don't think he's slept in a couple of days and sometimes when you're tired—"

"You what?"

Even jumped a little when Weaver's voice suddenly appeared. She looked at Hal, whose face bore a pained grimace. Under Weaver's accusing stare she felt like a little kid caught stealing from the cookie jar.

"Go ahead. I want to hear this."

Weaver stared Tom down, but Tom refused to fold. "You don't always make the best decisions. And I'm not the only one who's noticed." Weaver's eyes flickered from one fighter to another with an expression on his face that was both questioning and hostile. When they fell on Evelyn she felt obligated to look away. When she forced her eyes back to his, she could only give a curt nod to indicate that she agreed with Tom.

Weaver looked back to Tom. "But you're the one who's questioning my ability to lead."

Tom backpedaled a bit. "I never said that."

Weaver nodded definitively. "Good. Dai, you're relieved. I'm taking your spot on the scout." Evelyn felt a surge of disbelief. Weaver was in no state to be going out on a scouting expedition. And then he walked out the door without so much as another word, Tom a few steps behind him. Hal and Evelyn glanced at each other. Hal raised his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly towards the door the two older men had just passed through. The two of them quietly and with forced casualness made their way to the door so they could hear what was going on.

"Sure that's a good idea?" Tom's voice was laced with concern. Weaver's on the other hand rung with confidence. Maybe a bit too much confidence, Evelyn thought to herself. The worst mistakes in military history were born of incompetence and overconfidence. Weaver was far from incompetent, but sleep deprivation can lead to a lot of atypical behavior.

"You want to stay here and mind the fort, be my guest."

"The attack's in three days. Something happens to me, the 2nd Mass would go on. We can't exactly afford to lose you." Evelyn respected Weaver as a commander and as a man, but this behavior was bordering on self-destructive.

"You know anything about load-bearing dynamics, gauging structural integrity? I had a construction business after the service. Knowing where to hit this thing is just as important as knowing how."

Tom walked back into the armory, a look of supreme irritation on his face. But, as was his way, Hal injected some levity into the situation.

"So," he said, a smile already finding the corners of his mouth, "he's a contractor."

Evelyn snorted. "Yeah, if we can't blow the skitter palace to hell, maybe he can just file some paperwork and put a lien on it."

Tom let out a long sigh. "Well he must have been a lot of fun on a remodel." Then he grabbed a gun and walked out.

"Well," Dai said, hopping off the counter where he had perched, unloading the various weapons he had concealed about his person, "Good luck you guys. If it's all the same to you, I'm going to go grab some shut-eye." He handed Evelyn an extra mag for her Glock and looked both her and Hal directly in the eye. "Do me a favor and try not to die."

Hal and Evelyn finished loading themselves up with all the necessary weapons, surveillance tools, and food and made their way to the front of the school where their transportation awaited them. Evelyn tightened the straps of her backpack around her shoulders. She and Hal both swung their legs over their respective bikes. Evelyn patted hers as if it was a living, breathing being. In her opinion, if your life depended on something, you were nice to it, whether or not it was animate.

She looked over her shoulder at Hal and gave him a small smile. "See you on the other side." She kicked her bike into gear.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Driving back into Boston was one of, if not the most unnerving experiences of Evelyn's life. And this was coming from a life that had been jam-packed with unnerving experiences. She had thought she had seen all there was to see of death, but apparently she was wrong. One thing that she had never before encountered was dead silence. All she could hear was the sound of the engines reverberating up the stone walls. The only life that could be seen was the movement on that giant, towering structure over the center of the city. It seemed a lot bigger than the last time she had seen it, angry metal teeth jutting off the sides. The harshness of structure mirrored the cold, angular qualities of the extraterrestrials running across it.

Once they got closer to the center of the city, they left their bikes and covered them with a tarp, opting to travel by foot rather than draw the enemy's attention to there whereabouts with a cracked muffler. They traveled in virtual silence, using hand gestures as frequently a possible. Weaver identified an old office-building about two klicks out from the 'skitter palace'that served as a suitable vantage point. It was padlocked from the inside and Evelyn was the only one small enough to fit through the window. Hal handed her his jacket and she wrapped it around her arm, using it to punch in the glass of the window as quietly as glass-punching could possibly go. She slipped in and quickly cleared the room, ensuring that there was no nefarious creature waiting for them directly around the corner before letting the others in.

The four figures climbed the stairs rapidly and made their way onto the roof, running to the ledge in a crouched down position, trying to avoid the eye of any aircraft conducting visual sweeps of the area. Evelyn pressed herself as close to that concrete ledge as possible, peaking over the edge with the pair of binoculars held to her face. When you got a close look at the skitter structure, it didn't look nearly as solid as it did from far off. Like one of those Monet paintings. From a distance it had a certain grandeur or mystique, but up close you could see the brushstrokes, the flaws in the design. Evelyn could see the patchwork construction from what looked like bits of scrap metal. But if anything, that made it even more menacing, the fact that these small bits of humanity were taken and perverted to serve those who destroyed it. It was like Pope had said, these things sure did like to recycle, whether it was building materials or their child labor force.

Hal's harsh whisper broke through their silent consideration of the feat of alien engineering that towered above the city that she used to call home. "What do you think it's for?"

Tom focused the camera he brought for recon and snapped a few photos. "It's hard to say."

Evelyn squinted her eyes through her binoculars. "Those projections out from the center kind of look like landing strips."

Tom nodded slightly. "Mmh. That flat space on top kind of reminds me of an aircraft carrier."

From up close the structure didn't seem all that impressive. It was an amalgamation of bits and bobs tacked together like legos. Apparently Weaver agreed. "Whatever it is, it's not impenetrable. They're using basic construction techniques. Earth materials. Steel, rebar, concrete, copper wire—"

"It's like what the harnessed kids were going after, that scrap metal," Hal interjected.

"Hey, I think I see Julia's granite countertops! Man she would be pissed. All those months spent on the remodel so it looked 'just like Oprah's—"

Evelyn's sardonic tones were cut off by Weaver's gruff, fairly annoyed voice. "Walsh," he said never taking his eyes off the structure, "do us all a favor and shut your gaping pie-hole. This is not the time for your smartass commentary."

"Aye-aye, captain."

Weaver shook his head in confusion. "Bastards might be from outer space, but their engineering is strictly architecture 101."

Evelyn considered this new information. "Maybe the skitters we have with us now are the grunts, you know? The landing party or something? If the engineering is as basic as you say, then maybe they're just setting up camp so everything's ready for the more important members of the fleet."

"Well that's a possibility, Walsh, but there's nothing we can do about that right now." Weaver lowered his binoculars. "We have to focus on the task at hand. And from what I see right now, if we can get close enough, we can kill 'em."

Hal let out a soft laugh. "I like the sound of that." But his laugh was cut short and his entire demeanor changed. He had caught sight of something. He leaned in towards Tom. "Hey, Dad. Look at that South base right there. See where the Skitters are working?" Evelyn grabbed her binoculars and trained them on that spot. "I think I see somebody with them."

Tom nodded. "Something's got their attention."

All the sudden another figure came into frame. It was something Evelyn had only seen once before. Granted when she had seen it she was dizzy and half-asleep and wasn't entirely sure of what she saw, but she definitely recognized the tall, thin profile. She heard the others curse in surprise.

"What the hell, man?"

"What do you think they are?"

Evelyn cleared her throat lightly. "I don't know, but I've seen them once before. Back when I was with the 7th Mass."

All three heads turned towards her, almost in unison. Weaver glared at her accusingly. "Why the hell didn't you mention anything about this before?"

Evelyn stammered nervously. After everything that had happened that night, she had just shoved that memory aside. "I-I didn't really know what was going on. It was dark and I was half-asleep when it happened. I was sitting in my 'thinking place', this old tree by the lake, and I saw Clayton standing there and he was approached by these two blond chicks, both harnessed. There was someone—well something—else with them. It was obscured by the leaves, but it was tall and skinny and looked kind of like that. Clayton shook hands with one of the blonde girls. She stood really close to the thing, I think her harness might have connected her to it. I think that was the night Clayton made his deal." Evelyn sighed and looked back through her binoculars. "Based on how the skitters are behaving, I'd say their some kind of authority figure." She sucked in her breath and looked back at the three men before her. "Maybe the skitters aren't calling the shots."

Hal was the only one to respond. "Shit."

At that moment, an aircraft flew right over their heads. All four of them threw themselves to the ground, making themselves as small as possible.

Weaver let out a breath. "That was close. Let's get back to the bikes."

They descended the stairs in silence and walked into the ruined streets. Evelyn lagged a bit behind the others, letting her eyes rake over her surroundings. She saw a newspaper lying on the ground and picked it up. It was a tabloid. The headline read "Jen's Heartbreak: Calls Angelina a Home-wrecker." She snorted to herself. Evelyn had found it difficult to care about such trivialities before the world went to hell, but now, in the face of everything that had happened, it became down-right funny.

Weaver interrupted her silent reverie. "I used to drive in this neighborhood every day. We had a place in Allston just off Royal, right across the river."

This caught Evelyn's attention. In all the time that she had known him, Weaver had never mentioned his family before. Not to her, not on anybody. The fact that he was mentioning it now, in spite of everything that was going on, in spite of the discovery of those fish-headed things was…..troubling. He hadn't exactly been stable the past couple of days and this out of character behavior wasn't a good sign. Tom seemed keyed into this atypical Dan that appeared, but Hal was oblivious, too preoccupied with the recent discovery to notice the change.

"First these skitter and mechs, and now these humanoid things. Do you think they're anything like us?"

Tom shook his head. "No, not like us. Within any military hierarchy, you've got the troops in the field, and then you've got command. And up to this point we've assumed that the skitters were command. Maybe we were wrong."

Evelyn furrowed her eyebrows in contemplation. "But in our concept of combat the troops and command were of the same species. I don't pretend to know anything about alien physiology, but those things certainly didn't look like they belonged to the same species as the skitters. And, I mean, look at what they've done with us, taking the kids and hijacking them as a workforce. Maybe we weren't the first planet to be victimized. Maybe this isn't an occupation, but imperialism."

Weaver shook his head. "Even if we were wrong about who's calling the shots, it doesn't change anything."

But Tom wasn't so easily assuaged. Worry clouded his features. Evelyn could see the gears turning in his head, seeking out some point of reference in some book he had read that could help him to understand his current situation. "It might not matter tactically, but what worries me is that we've never seen them before. They could have been hanging back, waiting for it to be safe before showing themselves. They think they've already won."

Evelyn sighed. "Well if they've got humans trading kids for their own survival, more than just Clayton I mean, they may have good reason to think that. And I'm more than ready to show them how wrong they are."

Hal held his fist out behind his back. Evelyn brought hers forward to meet it. The role of the 'fist bump' in maintaining camaraderie confused Evelyn, it was such an innocuous gesture, but she was always happy to participate. It was always satisfying, though she never really understood why.

At that moment, there was a loud crash down the alley from the group of fighters.

"Hey, dad," Hal said, waving them over.

Tom walked up behind his son. "I see it." Evelyn saw it as well. A distinctly human figure was running at the other end of the alley. The gate was that of an older individual, and the figure was clearly wrapped in some sort of blanket. Whoever it was, this person was definitely NOT a harnessed kid. But then what could they possibly be doing in Boston?

"If they're following us," Tom continued, "we're going to take them right back to the 2nd Mass."

Weaver nodded and took a few steps forward. "OK, on me."

The four of them ran down the alley, taking light steps and poised ready to shoot. Evelyn quickly started checking all the windows and doors that surrounded them. All the sudden, shots rang out over their heads. Evelyn ducked down and held Sherlock tighter in her hands, looking desperately for the origin of the noise. But she couldn't find it. The echoes of the shots reverberating up the buildings surrounding that alleyway made it impossible to pinpoint the source. The shots stopped, but Evelyn could still hear the residual roaring in her ears. The clear voice of a woman then rang out over everything else. "Go on, get out of here before I blow your damn heads off!"

Tom shouted back from his position, huddled in a corner. "We're not going to hurt you!"

The disembodied voice that responded was tinged with derision. "Yeah, well, that's what they all say. How do you know that your not with _them_?"

This time it was Weaver who tried to reason with the woman. "Do we look like skitters to you?"

Evelyn scrunched up her face. In her experience treating mentally unstable people carrying guns with blatant hostility was never the best of ideas. She could hear a snarl in the next words spoken.

"You know, it's not the spacemen that bother me. It's the human trash that are tearing up this city, stealing everything that's not nailed down!"

Evelyn shook her head. This woman was seriously deranged. The skitters had destroyed everything and she was quibbling about property rights? Evelyn had little sympathy for looters, what they did often lead to violence and blood, but anyone who gave any sympathy to the skitters was suspect. Even men like Pope held some sort of solidarity with other humans, this woman seemed to share it with the skitters. She was not to be trusted, not to be reasoned with. But for some damn reason, Tom kept on trying.

"We're with the resistance! We could help you!" He removed his weapons and walked into the line of fire.

The woman opened the door she was hiding behind. Her flaming red hair was unexpectedly coiffed, everything in place. Hell, she was wearing a pair of earrings. Her eyes, on the other hand, screamed chaos. "Help I don't need."

Evelyn snorted. "Psychiatric help, maybe," she whispered to herself.

But the old woman continued. "You want to talk? Let's talk."

Weaver and Hal slowly walked out to meet Tom, but Evelyn was a bit more hesitant. Her inherent distrust stopped her.

"I'm Tom. This is my son Hal, our Commanding Officer, Captain Weaver and Evelyn Walsh." He looked back to where she was still pressed against the wall. "Come on out, Evey."

Evelyn silently cursed to herself. She pushed herself off the graffiti covered surface and brought herself out in the open, but she did not release Sherlock.

The woman glanced between the four people in front of her. The glance was twitchy. Evelyn kept her eyes locked on the gun in the woman's arms. "Sonja. Sonja Renken."

"This would go a whole lot smoother if you would lower your weapon." Weaver's tone was slow and modulated, speaking to her as you might a wounded animal.

The woman—Sonja—lowered her gun. Evelyn let out the breath she was holding and loosened her grip on Sherlock, though she refused to let go of the gun entirely. "Well I got to admit, you don't seem like the others."

Weaver at least seemed to remain suspicious of the woman. "Others? How long you been out here?"

"I never left. You can come in if you like. If it's the spacemen you want, I've been keeping my eye on them too. Just around the corner. 2740. First floor, apartment 1B."

Sonja began walking and Hal, Tom, and Weaver seemed to congregate. Evelyn approached them."

"—doesn't seem right, just leaving her here," Hal said watching her leave.

Weaver shook his head. "Our mission takes priority, and this could be a trap."

"Or an opportunity," Tom broke in. Porter sends us after information on the structure. This woman's been living next to it for months."

"Or she could be a crazy woman, living by herself." Evelyn sighed. At least she wasn't the only one who noticed the crazy-eyes.

But Tom pressed forward. Evelyn often found his faith in humanity to be endearing, admirable even, but it wasn't always practical. "She survived the invasion, got the drop on three fighters. We should all be so crazy."

Evelyn brought her hand to her face and wiped at her eyes, the rough fibers of those fingerless gloves scratching her skin. She bit her lip in contemplation and let her hand fall back to her side. "No, Tom. I've got to go with Hal on this one. That woman is ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. Did you hear the way she talked? She called them spacemen. Space_men_. All other nicknames for the aliens have been somehow related to insects, skitters, cooties, that kind of thing. She's anthropomorphized them. Maybe she's been seeing more than the skitters. I think she might been talking about those tall, squiggly things."

"Well, Evey, if that's the case, she definitely knows more about them than we do, and that's information that we need."

Evelyn, Hal, and Tom all turned to Weaver. Ultimately it was his call.

"All right. You, Hal, and Evelyn go in, but watch yourselves. If the building's clear, find out what she knows. I'll stand watch. I see any incoming, I'll fire a warning shot."

Evelyn sighed and tightened her hold on Sherlock. "All right, but I'm going on record saying I don't like it." They turned and began to follow Sonja down the street. Evelyn gagged. "I bet the house is going to smell like cat."

**So there's the new chapter. **

**Thank you to all those who read/reviewed/followed/favorited. I appreciate the support and hope I'm not letting you down. I aim to entertain.**

**The quote "ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag" was taken from the pilot of the TV show Leverage.**

**Please review! They kill skitters, etc.**


	18. What Hides Beneath

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'Falling Skies' and any familiar dialogue I transcribed from my DVD Box Set. Unfortunately I don't own it.**

**Pictures of my OCs are on my profile. Copy the links and delete the spaces.**

**I made a soundtrack for the story which is also on my profile (as another story link, it says 'The Same Kind of Broken Soundtrack', so I think the whole thing is fairly self-explanatory)**

Chapter 18 – What Hides Beneath

The apartment smelled of mildew and gunpowder and cats. Lots and lots of cats. If this woman—Sonja—was a little off before the invasion, her situation since then had fashioned her into the ultimate personification of 'crazy cat lady'. But there were no cats to be seen. A cat lady without any cats. Now that was the paragon of loneliness. But pity was not enough to make Evelyn trust this woman.

Evelyn looked around the apartment she was in. Like the woman herself, everything was perfectly put together, perfectly organized from the bust of a man she had in the entranceway to the intricate tea set she was currently using. The only thing abnormal about the place was the tea she stored in the living room.

"I am sorry that I don't have any milk."

Where the hell did she get the tea to begin with? This entire scenario was just too surreal for Evelyn. The whole thing was one big production, like she was being served tea and crumpets with the friggin' queen of England. The fact that this woman seemed to be living a largely normal and unencumbered life made Evelyn even more suspicious than she was after their first encounter. Tom simply brushed off the oddity of the situation, going straight to his default polite attitude. "That's OK. It's actually a lot better than we're used to."

Sonja handed each of them a cup of tea and they all offered their thanks.

"So you found all these supplies yourself?" Maybe he was more suspicious than he let on.

Sonja's response came just a little bit too quickly. She seemed as if she was on the defensive. "Yes, over time. Why?"

"It's just that the food stores we passed on the way looked a little picked over," he responded, taking a sip of his tea.

"Well some, uh, not all." A smile broke over the woman's face. It felt wrong, forced, but genuine at the same time. Like she was doing her best to adhere so some happy delusion she had created for herself. "We used to have so much fun here. Joel and Amy, my children, used to play in that courtyard. The Gibsons on the fourth floor were expert bridge players. John Hernandez, on eight, loved his football." She was talking about all of these people in the past tense, but it seemed like she was trying to sell a prime piece of real estate. Like she was trying to get them to stay. Evelyn saw Tom and Hal giving each other a look of understanding. Then Hal turned and looked Evelyn in the eye. There was a consensus. This woman was batshit crazy.

"Uh, they took me away, you know, uh, just for a bit. To a camp very far from here. There were so many of us at first, and then only a few."

"How did you get away?"

"Oh, I didn't, they let me go. They don't care about someone like me."

This set off alarm bells in Evelyn's head. She had seen the skitters kill countless helpless elderly folk. Why let this one woman go? She had to serve some purpose to them. Whether it was intentional or not, they were using her.

Tom sat down on the couch. "But you talked to them?"

Sonja shook her head nervously. "Just a little. Uh, through the children, the ones with the monsters on their necks." Evelyn was struck by the childlike mentality of this woman.

Tom rubbed his chin. "Did they say why they were here, what they wanted from us?"

Sonja sounded like a scolded child when she responded. Like she had been made to see the light after her own wrongdoing. "No. They wouldn't talk to us about that. But after what happened to us in the camp, I know that they don't want us here—N-not any of us."

Evelyn backed up and leaned against the wall, considering the woman in front of her. Sonja was probably senile. She was still largely functional, but the way she spoke—There was so much naivety and obliviousness. The aliens didn't want anyone alive, and yet they let her live. A bit of a contradiction. But Evelyn's contemplation was cut short by the sound of the engine revving. Weaver was by the bikes and had enough ammo on him to take down an entire platoon. That could only mean one thing—

Hal swung his head in the direction of the noise. "Is that Weaver?"

The three fighters grabbed their weapons and sprinted down the steps as fast as possible, looking for some sort of hostile contact. Looking for anything that could have made Weaver drive off like that.

"Do you see any aircraft?" Hal asked, out of breath from sprinting towards the bikes.

"No! Nothing on the ground." Tom chased after the departing bike. "Hey! Weaver!" Then he glanced at the remaining bikes. "He pulled the spark plugs."

Evelyn sighed and flipped Sherlock so the barrel rested on her shoulder. "Well, it looks like wherever he's going he doesn't want us following him."

Hal threw up his arms in frustration. "Where's he going?"

Evelyn ran forward, studying the retreating figure of her commanding officer. She sighed, turning around and running a hand through her hair. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "My money's on Allston."

"Well, shit."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

It took them longer to repair the bikes than Evelyn would have liked. It took forever to find spark plugs suitable enough to fit their mechanics. Weaver was long gone by then and they could only hope that they would find him. It was getting to close to dark. And they mostly came out at night…mostly.

It was getting close to dusk and Evelyn, Tom, and Hal were all still reconstructing their bikes. Evelyn was trying her best with the basic mechanics she had learned from Teddy, but this really wasn't her forte.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey, budge over. Let me take a look at that." Evelyn gave Hal a small smile of relief. There was a pretty good chance she would end up doing more damage than good to the bike if she kept playing with those wires. She stood up and stepped away, letting Hal finish the woefully inept work she had started. She leaned against the wall opposite her to comrades. She sank down, her back sliding down the wall till she was in the sitting position with her knees tucked up to her chin. She brought her hands around front and began to pick nervously at her grease-coated fingers. Old newspapers and plastic bags blew past like tumbleweeds from those cheesy old western movies. That's it, Boston had turned into a cliché of a ghost town.

Tom had been quietly berating himself for the past hour and a half. He blamed himself for not being able to predict Weaver's actions. "There's no way we can catch him, and he knows that. I knew there was something wrong. I could have stopped him back at the school."

"Well," Hal said from his spot next to Evelyn's bike, "Captain gives an order, you're supposed to follow it. I think I learned that from you."

Evelyn continued to study her hands. "Hal's right, Tom. This isn't on you. It isn't on anyone. He's been acting weird for a while. You saw it, I saw it, Anne saw it. Porter was the only one who could have done anything about it, and he saw it too. He just wasn't willing to risk the mission."

Hal and Tom stood up and backed away from their motorbikes. Hal slung his gun over his shoulder and walked up to Evelyn. She extended her hands upwards and he grabbed them, pulling her to her feet. "Where do you think he's going?"

Tom cleared his throat. "I don't know. He did say he had family in Allston. I thought he lost them during the attack. He never really got into it but not knowing is a powerful incentive."

Evelyn sidled up to her bike and swung a leg over it. "He said his family used to live on Royal Street. I'll bet he's there. Today is the first time I ever heard him mention anything about his past. He never really struck me as one for impromptu nostalgia. I think he planned on going there ever since he replaced Dai."

Hal and Tom moved up towards their respective bikes, but were stalled by a shadow coming up behind them. "A-are you leaving? You'll be coming back, right?"

"Yeah," Tom said never turning back to face her. "Just as soon as we find our friend."

The three of them kicked their bikes in gear and rode off to find Weaver. By the time they got to Royal St. it was dark.

"Hey," Evelyn yelled over the sound of the engines, "there's Weaver's bike."

Hal pulled his bike to a stop. "Must've thought we wouldn't find him."

"Or maybe he didn't care," Tom said, pulling up next to him. "I'll go in and check this out. You two stay here and guard the bikes."

Evelyn hopped off her bike and walked up next to Tom. "No. No way. There could be anything in there. You need one of us to back you up."

"Yeah, and that's what you're doing. If this goes south, you got to go back to the 2nd Mass."

Hal shook his head furiously. "No. I'm not going to leave you here."

Tom put his hand on Hal's shoulder. "Listen, Weaver and I don't agree on much, but we agree on this. The mission's got to come first. You got to go back to Porter, give him the recon photos and the route. Tell him what we saw at the structure."

Evelyn climbed on the hood of a nearby parked car and lay back on the windshield with Sherlock in her lap and her hands behind her head. She could hear Hal pacing and tapping the toe of his boot on the pavement. He was nervous. Evelyn inhaled deeply. "Look, Hal, you don't have to leave your dad. If it comes to that I'll head back to Porter. It'll probably just give him another reason to hate me, coming back without the captain _or_ his second in command, but I'll risk it."

She heard a pause in the tapping noise. "You know, I think that's the first time you've ever offered to NOT run face first into the line of fire."

"Yeah, well don't expect it to happen very often. It's one of those things like a double rainbow or the aurora borealis."

Hal climbed up onto the car next to her. "So what makes this time so different."

Evelyn shrugged. "Weaver and Tom are right. The mission is priority. But they only really need one person to tell command what's going on. And you're not leaving whether or not he told you to. That much is obvious. I know if Tom was my dad there's no way in hell I'd leave him. Hence—" She waved her hand lightly for emphasis. "I know how important your family is to you, and how important you are to them." She sat up and turned to face him. "Hey, Hal?"

He glanced back at her. "What's up, Evey?"

She squinted her eyes, trying to think of a way to avoid awkwardness. "Just…take care of yourself, OK? Always. You're kind of the rock, you know? Matt and Ben, they really need you. If anything actually did happen to Tom, you're all they've got, and they'll need you to hold things together. Your family is one of the few things out here that hasn't completely fallen apart, and I would really like it to stay that well. So when I'm not there to save your ass, just be safe. Promise me?"

She held a pleading expression in her eyes. When Hal saw it he did a bit of a double take. Some sort of shadow passed across Hal's face. He just stared at her for a few moments before he shook himself to attention. "Y-yeah. Yeah, Evey, I'll take care of myself."

Evelyn flashed him a small smile. "Good. Glad that's settled."

And then Evelyn did something entirely out of character. She kissed him on the cheek. She didn't know why she did it, but one thing was for sure. She was glad it was dark. Based on the amount of heat building up in her cheeks, she was the color of a tomato. She flopped back on the windshield of the car. From where she was she could see Hal's profile against the light of the stars. He brought his hand up and touched the spot on his cheek where she had kissed him. Evelyn felt a fuzzy warm feeling wash throughout her. Damnit, she was crushing on Hal again. Her timing really sucked. There never really was enough time was there?

"Maybe you'll remember that one."

It was spoken so softly that Evelyn was sure she had not been meant to hear it. So she didn't respond. They were quiet for a while. Evelyn looked at the stars.

"You know Scorpio kind of looks like a tractor with tentac—"

"Evey, are you planning on going somewhere?"

Evelyn blinked a few times. "Well these days Paris sounds like too much to ask for at this point. Disneyland maybe? No lines, no puky kids. This probably counts as off season."

Hal rolled his eyes with only a hint of a smile. "Could you be serious for just a second please? Would that kill you?"

"It might." Hal just pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. Evelyn sat up so that she was shoulder-to-shoulder with him. "What kind of a question is that, Hal?"

Hal cracked his neck and stared at the desolate street in front of him. "It's just, the way you were talking, it seemed very…final."

Evelyn stretched her arms to the sky and groaned. "I'm not leaving the 2nd Mass, Hal. I never will if I have anything to say about it. But everything is final, Hal. Every decision, every action has consequences, more now than they used to. And nobody ever has as much time as they think they do. The banter is the filler, the buffer. Talking about nothing makes things easier and a hell of a lot more fun, but sometimes it takes the place of other things that need to be said. Everything you say could be the last thing you say, so sometimes you've just got to get it all out there before it's too late. Which is why I'm telling you that, when I'm gone, you better fucking take care of yourself."

Evelyn clenched, realizing that she had used the word 'when' instead of 'if'. Apparently Hal had noticed too, his hands balling into fists as if trying to relieve some of the anxiety that he felt at her words. Hal nodded to himself, a conflicted look on his face.

"I guess you're right. There never is enough time." He turned to her. His face bore an earnestness that she had never really seen before. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Evelyn felt her eyebrows draw together in a frown. "Hal?"

He ran his hand down his face. "Listen, Evey, I—"

Evelyn threw her hand over Hal's mouth. His eyes widened. Evelyn raised a finger to her lips. "Listen," she hissed in a low voice. The typical alternation of whirring and clanking met her ears. She looked as Hal, a silent communication passed between them. They had to run. A mech was headed directly for Weaver's house, as if it knew that something was going on.

The two of them scrambled of the hood of the car, sprinting and looking for some sort of cover for them to use. Hal, being a lacrosse player, was much faster than Evelyn. He kept looking backwards at her. As she began to lag, he slowed his pace, reaching backwards to grab her hand and dragging her forward. Finally they found a play structure. They ran towards it, Evelyn falling to her knees as Hal dragged her forward. Hal pushed her under the structure, clambering in after her. Hal fell on top of her, crushing her under his weight. The small, strangled breaths that they tried to conceal mingled as they tried to remain silent while the massive metal biped stomped past.

Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut. In her philosophy 101 class her first day at university, the teacher had asked all of the students a question. If you were to fall off a building to your death, would you rather fall face up, looking away from the ground, or face down, knowing what your fate would be. Apparently your answer said something about who you were as a person. The professor wanted his students to think and consider. In one scenario you would see your death coming and in the other you would be completely oblivious. But for Evelyn, if she was allowed the opportunity to choose they're never really was a question. Death was always coming for everyone, it was simply a question of when. So why would you want to know when? It was limiting. You would never start something, because you knew you would never be able to finish it, never be able to follow through. Evelyn was familiar with that feeling. If she had a choice, she would be face up, looking at the sky and pretending that she was flying. If you didn't know how much time was left, you had all the time in the world. The same way the time between hitting the snooze button and the time it rings again can seem like hours as long as you keep your eyes closed. So Evelyn kept her eyes closed and waited.

Evelyn heard the mech pass them, the sound fading and the vibrations in the ground becoming softer and softer. She was hugging Hal close to her, tense with worry, and she could feel him doing the same. When Evelyn finally opened her eyes, she was staring right into Hal's. As they looked at each other, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and his eyes moved down her face and fixated on her lips. In that moment Evelyn was certain that Hal Mason was about to kiss her. His head seemed to lower towards her. Evelyn sucked in a breath and held it, anxious and excited all at the same time.

A hail of gunfire gave way to a massive explosion detonated, shaking the ground and blowing small bits of debris on the pair. Hall and Evelyn sat up, anxiously looking for the source of the noise. A voice called out in the distance. "Hal? Evelyn? Where are you?"

Hal immediately jumped to his feet and ran out from under the play structure. "Dad?"

Evelyn stood up and followed him. Hal had been about to kiss her, right? She was never good with romantic social cues. She could be wrong. She felt confused. But more than anything else she felt disappointed. Crap. This is why apathy was easier. She had cultivated her apathy so well, but the 2nd Mass and the people there had destroyed it completely. To some that may seem like a good thing, but to Evelyn is made everything just that much more difficult.

She jogged after Hal, trying to get her feelings in check, since she was unable to quash them altogether. Her hormones were hardly a priority at this juncture.

When she and Hal rounded the corner back towards Weaver's house, they practically collided with Tom.

"Dad, you all right? Where's Weaver?"

"He's still inside," Tom said, grabbing his son's shoulders and looking him up and down to make sure that he was intact. He turned towards Evelyn. "Nice to know that duct-tape-grenade thing actually works."

Hal was slightly out of breath, but Evelyn could hear the anxiety in his voice when he spoke. "That was no passing patrol, dad. That mech came straight to Weaver's house."

Hal, Evelyn, and Tom walked quickly back to the bikes. Tom rubbed his chin with frustration. "The only person who knew we were here was that woman Sonja."

"That woman gave us up." Weaver walked out of the front door of his home. Evelyn looked at the figure before her appraisingly. He looked…..better. He was awake. Hell, he was enthusiastic. Tom walked over to him and spoke with the captain in low tones.

Evelyn walked to her bike and swung her leg over, patting it as she always did. "She probably didn't even really realize what she was doing. She had the crazy eyes. She might have even thought that she was helping us."

Hal snorted. "If she though that, she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag."

Evelyn gave him a whithering look. "Hal, that's rude."

"But you just—" Hal was indignant until he caught the teasing smile in her eyes. He just glared at her lightheartedly. "Shut up, Evey."

"Never."

Evelyn readjusted her weapon and her pack. She vaguely heard Weaver proclaim 'damn right' somewhere behind her. Footsteps came up beside her as Weaver and Tom both mounted their motorbikes.

Evelyn looked at Weaver, still not sure that he had completely stabilized yet. "So where do we go from here?"

"Well," Weaver said staring at the road in front of him. For the first time in a long time, his expression was one of somebody who could see something at the end of that road. "Let's go pay Sonja a visit."

Evelyn smiled. He was back. "Alright. I'll see you guys on the other side."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Upon reentering Sonja's apartment, Evelyn was assaulted with the smell of cat for a second time. When they burst into the apartment, Sonja made a move to grab her gun, but Evelyn managed to get to it first. The woman seemed genuinely surprised to see them again, but she wasn't upset to see them. In fact, she was almost happy. It was like she was a puppy abandoned on the side of the road. She was both perplexed at their reappearance, but at the same time it was as if she had expected it all along.

Weaver sat her down on the couch and held her there at gun point. "So. Care to tell us why exactly a mech tried to fry us not an hour ago?"

Sonja shook her head in an almost manic way. "I-I don't know what you're talking about. I don't even know what a mech is. Is it one of those metal men? The ones that make all the noise?"

Weaver bore down on the woman. "You were the only one who knew where we were goin', and something was sent to kill us. So who did you tell about us? Who are you in contact with?"

Sonja laced her fingers and rocked back and forth in her seat. Evelyn sighed and leaned towards Hal and Tom. "We're not going to get a straight answer out of her, whether or not she wants to give it. This whole thing is like 'Octogenarians, Interrupted'."

The rocking continued. It was beginning to make Evelyn anxious. Instability had always made her uncomfortable. She usually prided herself on her perspicacity and ability to predict people's behavior, but since Clayton she had lost faith in that aspect of her judgment, and being in a room with a crazy person made her that much more uneasy. The behavior of such a person was almost impossible to predict, so Evelyn stayed as far away from Sonja as possible and kept her hands on her weapon at all times.

"I-I didn't say anything," Sonja said, a sincere look in her eyes as she glanced at each of them. Then she furrowed her eyebrows and looked at her hands folded in her lap. "Well, I did mentioned that I had visitors to that girl that came by, the one with the monster on her neck. She's so pretty, and she has a kind face." She looked up at them, as if seeking approval. "She asked how I was and I told her some nice people had visited me, that they had gone to Allston but they were coming back for tea later on."

Evelyn brought her hand to her forehead, rubbing it with her forefinger and her thumb, trying to stave off the headache that was forming behind her head. She was glad Maggie wasn't here to look over her shoulder. This woman was as much of a victim as any of them. Her obvious dementia wasn't her fault, and she had become a valuable resource to the skitters. Or to those other things. Evelyn took a few steps forward and put a hand on Sonja's shoulder that she hoped was comforting. "Sonja, is that pretty girl coming back to see you again? I think I might like to meet her."

Sonja's eyes snapped up to meet Evelyn's. "Well, she usually brings me food at night. She should be here in an hour or so." Sonja let out an unnerving smile. "You know, I bet the two of you would be friends. You remind me a lot of my daughter, Amy. She used to play out in the courtyard out there," she said gesturing to the door. "She and her friend Isabelle used to play out there together all the time. Joel had such a crush on Isabelle. I always hoped they would find each other, but Isabelle married that drummer with the greasy hair."

Evelyn laid her gun down and sat next to the woman. "Do you think we could wait here until they got back? I'd really love some more tea."

Sonja nodded with enthusiasm. "Yes! Of-of course."

Weaver stepped forward and stared at the woman. "Alright, but when they get back, don't tell them we're here. Just tell them you're alright and that you haven't seen anyone else. Can you do that?"

Sonja continued to nod. "I can do that, yes."

"Alright, then."

They waited for what seemed like hours, but was probably just twenty minutes or so. Evelyn was sitting down in the easy-chair counting the number of tiles in the ceiling when she finally heard a knock on the door. She stood up straight as a board and brought Sherlock up to her shoulder, aiming the gun at the door. She moved towards where Hal and Weaver were standing. Tom calmly walked up to the door, standing next to the hinges so he would remain hidden just in case Sonja impulsively yanked the door open.

Sonja looked through the peephole in her door. "Oh, uh, it's you."

The disembodied voice of a young girl emerged from the other side of the door. "We brought more food. Do you have anything to tell us?"

When that voice spoke, Evelyn felt Hal tense up next to her. After what happened to Ben, she expected him to feel uneasy around harnessed children, but this reaction was stronger than that. She could see his jaw tensing and untensing.

Tom whispered to Sonja as she stared at her visitors. "Just as I said. You're alone and everything's fine."

Sonja nodded silently, her face still pressed against the door. "Uh, no. I haven't seen anyone since those people earlier today."

The look on Hal's face became wilder and wilder. "Dad!" he cried out in a harsh whisper, moving towards the door, pushing both Tom and Sonja out of the way and pressing his eyes against the peephole.

From her position at the back of the room Evelyn heard the monotone, feminine voice again. "We couldn't get them. Do you know where they've gone?"

Hal was struggling against the door, but somehow Sonja was the one to maintain her cool. "No."

Tom was struggling against Hal as his son was grappling with the door. Tom managed to get him back to the other side of the room and Evelyn helped him hold Hal back.

"It's Karen, dad! They've got her!" Hal said in more harsh whispers. But given his tone, he might as well have been screaming.

Tom had his hand against Hal's chest. "We can't help her now! We don't know how many of them are out there!"

Hal was still struggling against his father. "We can't leave her here! We can't leave her!"

Tom looked at Evelyn to see whether or not she had the situation under control. She gave a single, definitive nod and Tom returned to the door to see what was going on.

Evelyn was incredibly grateful for her upper body strength as Hal struggled against her. She braced her body against his to keep him in place and looked him dead in the eye. "Hal? Look at me, Hal. There's nothing we can do right now. Don't pull a 'Leroy Jenkins' on me, Hal. If you run out there you'll only get yourself, and us, killed. Hal?" She felt his pulse slow down a bit and lowered the pressure of her forearm against his chest slightly. He seemed to be regaining control.

Evelyn could hear Sonja in the background. "She's been coming here a few days. She has a very pretty face. Do you know her?"

Evelyn turned her head slightly to hear Tom's response. "That's my son's girlfriend. The aliens took her five weeks ago."

Evelyn couldn't help it, but a tiny knot formed in the bottom of her stomach. It was envy, a green-eyes monster almost as terrifying as those she found herself face to face with every day. Hal was in love with Karen. She had been a bit delusional. Time to package away the hormones, emotions, etc. Evelyn sighed. That met her vulnerability quota for at least the next month or so. No more misleading emotions, pure, empirical logic would serve her just fine.

After a few minutes, Tom said the fish-head thing that was at the door had left. Weaver sat down opposite Sonja and stared her down. "You told them about us didn't you? You gave us up to those things."

Sonja was fiddling with her necklace in almost a pathological way. It made Evelyn want to pull out the chain of dog tags she always wore around her neck.

"But they promised me they wouldn't hurt you," she said with a slight smile on her face which faded after a few moments. "The girl said that they would bring you back, and then I would have company again, th-the way it used to be before. And I—they always promise to bring them back.

Hal was glaring at the woman with pure, unadulterated hatred. He had managed to shift some the blame of Karen's fate from his shoulders to hers. And Evelyn was grateful for it. "Who knows how many people she's given up to them."

Evelyn kept her eyes on Sonja. All the scrutiny was clearly agitating her. When Tom's voice responded, it held more pity than Hal's had. "It's why they let her go. It's an old tactic. You leave a couple of friendlies behind like watchdogs, and they pick up the intel the enemy never could. They got her for a box of tea."

Evelyn faced both Tom and Hal to confront them. "No." She said looking them both in the eye. "They got her with the promise of a new community. The promise of a son and a daughter. They got her with the promise of a family. The two of you have always had one and don't know what it's like without one." Tom and Hal shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "I'm not exonerating that woman, she's done some despicable things, but she's clearly mentally unstable. Her crime was not a result of her inhumanity, but of her desire for human contact. She wants people with her and she thinks the 'spacemen' will help her find them."

Evelyn stepped back and lingered by the door ready to leave. This woman wasn't coming with them. She didn't know how to be anywhere else. Tom and Weaver discussed what to do with her. Tom moved towards Sonja and Evelyn heard some mention of 'Gloucester'. Misinformation was always good in wartime. And with that they left the poor woman. Her house was likely to be rubble in a few days time.

**Guess the pop culture references part 3. There were a few references to pop culture, largely of the US affiliation this time. If you guess them correctly, an overlord gets a nosebleed.**

**BUT REVIEWS STILL KILL SKITTERS!**

**Thank you to everyone still reading this story. It seems like some may have lost interest, so if there are critiques, please tell me ASAP. I'm needy and co-dependent.**


	19. The Slow Burn

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'Falling Skies' and any familiar dialogue I transcribed from my DVD Box Set. Unfortunately I don't own it.**

**Pictures of my OCs are on my profile. Copy the links and delete the spaces.**

**I made a soundtrack for the story which is also on my profile as another story. Songs are now available through chapter 18.**

Chapter 19 – The Slow Burn

The entire way back Evelyn debated with herself what to do about Weaver. He was unstable, that was clear given his little breakdown, and he hadn't been sleeping well for quite some time. But whatever Tom had said to him in that house had made some sort of difference. For the first time since she had met him, Evelyn saw more than anger in that man's eyes. She saw hope. But hope could lead to recklessness.

It was quite the quandary. If anyone heard of what happened with Weaver while on the scouting mission, people would lose faith in the chain of command and that would be disastrous. Tom was a leader of men, but he wasn't a leader of soldiers. He could not rally and control the troops in the same way that Weaver could. On the other hand, if Weaver were to suffer another similar breakdown, it could destroy everything they had built at the 2nd Mass.

By the time they had arrived back at the high school and Evelyn had kicked off her motorbike, she realized that it really wasn't her place to decide what to do. She was only eighteen years old. She wasn't a career military man or a strategist. She had often overestimated the value of her opinions in the past, and that had typically been with issues not nearly as sensitive as the one at hand.

The four of them made their way back to the armory to deposit their weapons. Evelyn lagged behind a bit while Hal walked in pace with Tom, talking about Karen the whole time. Evelyn could feel a prickling of jealousy in the pit of her stomach. And she hated herself for it. It wasn't fair. Karen had been taken, she was suffering, and here Evelyn was resenting her. And for what? A schoolgirl crush that she hadn't quite gotten over yet?

Evelyn silently walked to the armory and divested herself of her handguns, keeping Sherlock close to her side as usual. Hal was standing next to his father unloading his various holsters. "First chance I get I'm going after her, Dad." He started walking backwards out of the room, never breaking eye contact with Tom. "First chance," he said, holding up a finger for emphasis. He turned and disappeared out the door.

Evelyn quickly threw down the rest of her weapons and ran down the hallway after him.

"Hal!" He didn't respond and just kept walking. Evelyn picked up her pace to catch up to him. She grabbed his shoulder and tried to turn him around. "Hal!"

He spun around abruptly, knocking her hand from his shoulder. "What, Evey! What the hell do you want?"

She wasn't so much surprised by his anger as she was by the harshness of his words. She blinked and took a few small steps back. For a moment Hal looked as if he was going to apologize, but he just tensed his jaw and stared at the floor. He looked back up at her with his eyebrows raised expectantly. "Well?"

Evelyn sighed and scratched at her hairline. "Look, this is a totally shit situation, OK. I don't pretend to know what you're going through with all of this. It sucks to an epic degree. But remember what you promised me."

Hal rolled his eyes. "Please, Evey, I'm not going to pull a 'Leroy Jenkins'. So would you please just back off and—"

"Hal, do me a favor and shut the fuck up for like two minutes." Evelyn shoved her hands in her pockets, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. "All I'm saying is, when it comes time, I'm in."

Hal looked nonplussed. "What do you mean?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes and grabbed his shirt sleeve, dragging him out of the traffic in the center of the hall. "What do you mean, 'what do I mean'? Hal, I'm in, I'm game, I'm there. I'll help bring Karen back. Whatever you need. Just…don't be an idiot about this."

Hal gave her a searching look. There was something in his eyes that looked vaguely like guilt. "Evey, why would you—"

"We're partners, Hal. I've got your back, you've got mine. That's how it works."

She reached forward and wrapped her arms around his torso. He stiffened at first, but then relaxed into the hug. "Everything will be all right in the end, Hal... if it's not all right then it's not the end." The words were comforting, but rang false even to her own ears.

Hal snorted into her shoulder. "I hardly think that's true, but it's a nice thought."

Evelyn released Hal and smacked him on the chest, making him stumble backwards a few steps. "Now suck it up, princess. Stop moping and go do something productive."

Hal walked away, nodding. "Sucking it up."

Evelyn backed against the wall and slid down to the floor. She brought her knees to her chest and folded her arms, burying her head in them. She was tired, so very, very tired, physically, emotionally, spiritually. She could feel the blood coursing in her temples, the dull pounding in her aching head throbbing in time with her heartbeat. Life and pain, they so often go hand in hand. Evelyn felt herself drifting. The sound of her own blood pumping in her ears soothed her, its regularity reminded her of waves crashing on a beach. Evelyn had always loved the beach. When she was a kid she and her parents would always go there for vacation. Julia did it for the tanning and the skimpy swimsuits and her dad did it for the golf and the mojitos. But what Evelyn loved more than anything was the water.

Some psychologist might tell her that this love of the ocean was because water was an archetype for rebirth, for starting anew, and they might be right. As a kid she did have an undeniable desire to escape her life as it was. But as a kid she didn't know anything about that psychology racket. Even with all the dysfunction in her family, her parents had never bothered sending her to a shrink. All Evelyn knew was that when she looked at the wide expanse of the ocean, her problems seemed so small. It was so huge and so deep it could hide any manner of secret, ant manner of problem. She used to wake up before dawn and sneak out onto the beach and stand at the edge of the water, letting the waves take the sand out from under her feet and watching the sun as it rose. It would light up the ocean almost as if from the inside out, a warm light emanating from within. Each time a wave crashed into her legs and then receded back, she used to pretend it was taking one of her secrets, one of her problems with it, that way she wouldn't be troubled by it anymore. Her parents' fighting, the bullying at school, her fear would disappear with one of those waves. But now the ocean was miles away, and she was so filled with secrets and anxieties that she felt as if she might burst. She sat there in that hallway, somewhere between waking and sleeping, much like she would stand on that beach: rooted in one place, unable to bring herself to move, even though she might be more comfortable elsewhere. She could hear the footsteps of people passing her by, but at the same time she could almost feel the sand between her toes. She imagined waves crashing into her legs and tried to let go of everything that had led to that tight, twisted knot of anxiety that had been lingering in the pit of her stomach for the past few weeks.

After what could have been two minutes or two hours, she felt a light tapping on her head. A young, childlike voice addressed. "Evey? Evey, wake up."

"Mmph. What is it, Matt? I don't have any Cheez Wizz. Just let me sleep."

"Evey—"

"No marsh mallow fluff either. I'm sure you can find something else sticky to eat. Then you can fulfill your dream of being Spiderman and climb up walls with the adhesive you have coating them."

The tapping on the top of her head continued. "Evey, you have to get up. Come on Evey. It's past noon, you shouldn't be sleeping."

Evelyn swung her arm out blindly to discourage her attacker, never raising her head. "Matt, I haven't has a mother since I was thirteen, and if I ever get a new one I can guarantee you that she won't be a foot and a half shorter than me."

Evelyn felt a small foot nudging into her shins. "Shut up, Evey. I'm tall for my age and you know it. And you gotta get up. There's something I need to show you."

Evelyn just buried her head further in her arms to muffle the stream of curses that were not age-appropriate for the ears of a ten-year-old.

"I heard that," a deeper, gruffer voice interjected.

Evelyn finally raised her head to see both Matt and Max staring down at her. Evelyn groaned. "What kind of unholy alliance is this? Can't I just get a few minutes of peace to wallow in self-pity and despair? You guys seriously know how to ruin a moment."

Max smirked at her, that superior, self-satisfied smirk that always appeared when he thought he had accomplished something he considered to be impressive. It kind of made her want to punch him in the face. The last time she had seen it was the time he had constructed an especially tall house of cards, so needless to say she wasn't expecting any of much significance.

"Max, I really have no interest in seeing another card house or another piece of toast with Reagan's face on it."

Evelyn wouldn't have believed it possible, but Max's smirk grew even larger. "Trust me, Lyn. What me and munchkin here are going to show you makes Toast-Reagan look like that weird stick I found."

Evelyn slowly dragged herself to her feet. "I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean," she said rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "I thought that stick was way cooler than Toast-Reagan. It looked like Rick Astley."

Max rotated his wheelchair so it was pointed down the hallway, shaking his head. "It's like I don't know you at all, picking Rick Astley over this nation's greatest president." Evelyn groaned. Max knew she didn't care for political discussion—you always end up in an argument—and he loved to goad her with it. He patted his lap, indicating Matt to jump on, and then took off rolling down the hall towards the front door. "Come on Lyn, you don't want to miss this."

Evelyn slapped her own cheeks, trying to force herself to attention. "What the hell is it that I don't want to miss?"

It was Matt's childlike enthusiasm that echoed through the hall, which for some reason was empty now. "Something completely awesome!"

Evelyn took a deep breath and jogged after them. "Why won't you just tell me?"

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When Evelyn finally caught up to Matt and Max, they were surrounded by a crowd of people who had gathered to see none other than the illustrious Pope who was standing on a massive slab of concrete, looking down on them as if he were Prometheus about to give the helpless humans the gift of fire. The greasy-haired delinquent was making quite a spectacle of himself. When he caught sight of Evelyn, he gave a flagrant wink. And she gave him the finger. In response he just smirked and threw a hand over his heart, mouthing the word 'ouch' and winking a second time. He spun around to face the rest of the crowd that was beginning to form. "All right everybody, gather 'round. I got a demonstration!"

Evelyn looked down to Max and Matt. "What the hell is going on?"

Max's hands leapt up to cover Matt's ears. "Language, Lyn! He's a minor."

But Matt's hands yanked at the larger ones, pulling them away from his ears. "We found a new way to hurt the skitters. Max said it would help you guys fight them. And I helped!" The gleeful light in his eyes warmed Evelyn's heat. "I helped a lot, didn't I Max?"

Max ruffled the hair on the kids hair and looked down at him with a smile in his eyes. "Damn straight, you did, kid."

Matt slapped his hands over his own ears and yelled, "Language, Max!"

Evelyn leaned forward to whisper to Max so the kid on his lap couldn't hear. "You let him work with Pope."

Max nodded. "Mmh." He glanced upward and caught the severe, disapproving look in Evelyn's eyes. "Don't look at me like that, Lyn. Because Matt was there, we came up with something that might actually turn the tide of the assault on the structure. And Pope was weirdly good with him." At that, Evelyn scoffed. Max shook his head with his eyes wide. "No, I'm serious. It was actually kind of creepy."

Then Evelyn remembered something. Pope had kids. It was easy to forget what with his greasy hair and bad attitude, but he was a father. Her only response to Max was a noncommittal "huh".

Once again Pope's voice broke through their conversation. "So! The score is aliens one, humans, zero! Hell, humans aren't even on the board! Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Evelyn noticed Weaver and Tom making their way out of the school to see what the ruckus was about. And Weaver looked pissed.

"So, the whole gang's here! Good. I don not want to have to do this twice."

"You're supposed to be making bombs, Pope!"

Matt jumped off Max's lap and ran towards his dad, beaming with pride and excitement. At that point Maggie sidled up next to Evelyn. Her arms were crossed and her expression was hostile, never removing her eyes from greasy, trigger happy man in front of them. "Do you know what this is?" she whispered, ignoring the back-and-forth between Pope and Weaver. Neither Evelyn nor Maggie were interested in the inevitable pissing match that would follow. Men. Can't live with them, can't get them to put their egos aside for the common good.

Evelyn leaned closer to Maggie. She spoke in a low voice. "Apparently we have a new way to kill the skitters."

It seemed like Weaver and Pope had stopped circling each other like rabid dogs, so Evelyn tuned back into the monologue. "—because the bad guys have us outgunned. You know, it takes an entire magazine just to put a dent in one of their tin soldiers!" Pope hobbled down off his concrete podium. "May I?"

A soldier handed him an assault rifle, and Pope found himself with about twenty-five other guns trained on his back. A few of the men looked like they were just itching for him to make the wrong move so they could take him out. Pope really wasn't very good at making friends. He looked behind him and saw the dozens of rifles pointed in his direction. He just smirked, seemingly pleased that he was considered such a threat, but Evelyn could have sworn she saw a little sadness behind his eyes. A sort of regret born from perpetual loneliness. Evelyn knew what it was like to feel lonely when surrounded by people, and it was worse than the loneliness that arose from physical isolation. It was a loneliness paired with a feeling of rejection.

Pope lowered the assault rifle and shot at the metal carcass of a destroyed mech he had set up. The result was expected. Nothing happened. Pope turned back to the soldiers, handing back the rifle. He shoved his hand in his pocket and brought out a small, shiny object Evelyn recognized as a .45 caliber bullet. He held it up for the crows to see. "But there's a new sheriff in town!"

Evelyn heard Maggie snort and mutter "cliché" under her breath. The older girl was glaring at Pope, clearly unimpressed with his display so far.

"It's a standard bullet, only it's got a mech-metal slug."

Evelyn glanced across the clearing and caught sight of Matt. He was grinning like an idiot, a small, adorable idiot. He waved at her and pointed at himself. Evelyn felt the corners of her mouth tugging up into a smile. This was the kid's idea and he was proud as hell, as he should be. Evelyn gave him a wink and a thumbs-up to indicate that she understood. She turned back to Pope who was now aiming at the mech hardware with a simple handgun. She felt her stomach clench with excitement, hoping that what she was about to see conformed to her expectations. Pope pulled the trigger. A massive hole was blasted in the center of the mech.

Her mouth dropped. She was struck dumb with the enormity of what she had just seen. The crowd around her went off like a bomb, a sudden explosion of screaming, yelling, and cheering. But to Evelyn it was muted, like listening to people speak while your head is underwater. She could hear the tones of the voices, but they all blurred together in one massive sea of sound. She vaguely heard Weaver's gruffness over everything else, but she couldn't make out the words. It was sort of like the way those adults spoke in those Peanuts cartoons. She looked around her and her eyes fell on Hal who was standing directly opposite the clearing from her. He looked to be much in the same state of shock that she was experiencing, eyes wide and mouth open. They caught each others' gaze. Evelyn let out a weak laugh and finally allowed the hesitant smile to find its way to her face as Hal's did the same. The two of them raised their hands and gave each other an 'air high-five'.

Evelyn spun around laughing like an idiot and her hands finding a way into her bright red locks. Her eyes fell on Ben. She made a move to wave at him, but soon noticed that he wasn't celebrating with the rest of the crowd, but was preoccupied by something else entirely: Rick. The kid didn't look celebratory, he looked angry and scared, like a wild animal that had been backed into a corner. Something was not right with him. He ran away, disappearing behind the piles of debris stacked in front of the school. And just like that the moment of pure, unadulterated joy was tainted by anxiety once again.

Evelyn sighed and shoved yet another problem into that filing cabinet in the back of her mind. She pushed through the crowd towards where Pope and Weaver were standing.

"—spit them out like gumballs. I'll also give you something for the .50-cal."

Weaver was actually smiling at Pope. "You do that." He rounded back to the crowd and lifted one of those bullets in the air like he was the Statue of Liberty and that bullet was the torch guiding everyone towards a safer tomorrow. "We're taking this fight to them!"

The crowd erupted a second time. Evelyn approached Pope, who was facing the other direction. She tapped on his shoulder, and by the time he had turned around, her right hand was extended out to him.

Pope took her hand and laughed. "So this is what it takes to get a name from you, huh? I wonder what a guy would have to do to get a phone number."

She ignored his jab. "It's Evelyn. Evelyn Walsh."

He cocked his head to the side in that twitchy way that always made him seem over-caffeinated. "Evelyn, huh? That's a grandmother name. I had my money on Brandi or Holli, or anything that ended with an 'i'."

Evelyn yanked her hand out of his. "OK, I think the moment's over." She theatrically wiped it off on her pants. "I think I might have just caught hepatitis."

She spun on her heel and began walking back towards the school. She heard Pope shouting behind her. "Come on, Hot Lips, I was being nice! I can be nice!" Evelyn didn't turn back around, but extended her right arm backwards so she could give him the finger a second time. As she retreated she could hear his slightly maniacal laugh booming in the background.

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Evelyn wandered the hallways of the school. She had never it this empty before, everyone was out front celebrating the recent victory. It reminded her of the times Julia would forget to pick her up because of one of her hair appointments or pilates sessions. Then Evelyn gave into one of her childhood fantasies and started doing cartwheels down the hallway, being sure to place her hand directly in the center of the tiles.

Every once in a while Evelyn would give in to these childish urges. She had always thought it was important to quote "maintain your childhood whimsy", and under these living conditions it seemed all that more important. So if it rained, she would go puddle-stomping. If she was cleaning dishes or doing laundry, she would blow soap-bubbles. And if she was confronted by a long stretch of empty hallway, she would do cartwheels.

Evelyn had almost made it to the end of the hallway when she passed the medical bay. From the upside down position she held mid-cartwheel, with her hair brushing the floor and the blood rushing to her head, she could see Lourdes sitting at a desk, her head in her hands and curtain brown hair shielding her face from view. Startled by the image that suddenly confronted her, Evelyn placed her hands far too close together, causing her to lose balance and collapse on a heap on the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut and remained perfectly still, adhering to two juvenile concealment strategies: first, that if she couldn't see someone, they couldn't see her either, and, second, that if she remained still enough, her presence would go unnoticed. Unsurprisingly, her tactics were unsuccessful.

A soft, kind voice reached her ears. "Evelyn, is that you? Are you OK?"

Evelyn quickly scrambled to her feet and scratched the back of her neck nervously, her eyes focused on her boots. "Yeah, Lourdes, I'm good. Right as rain. Chill as a cucumber. Pleased as punch—wait. That doesn't make any sense, I'm—"

Evelyn finally raised her eyes her eyes to meet those of her friend. They were red and puffy from crying, but that was not what struck Evelyn. The ones that she saw didn't look like they belonged to Lourdes at all. They were empty, hollow, like a light had gone out. It looked as if the unerring faith that had filled them for so long had been replaced by despair. All the awkwardness that had previously characterized the social interaction radically shifted to one consisting exclusively of concern. Evelyn took a single, small step towards Lourdes. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing!"

Evelyn walked purposefully up to the girl and physically turned her chair so that they were facing each other. Lourdes folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. Evelyn squatted down in front of her and took those petite hands in hers. The differences between them were startling. Lourdes's were still soft and clean with well-manicured nails while Evelyn's were rough and calloused and the nails had bee chewed to the quick. If someone looked at their hands, they might guess that Lourdes had had an easy life while Evelyn was the one who had suffered all the pain and indignity, but Evelyn knew it was very much the opposite. Lourdes was soft and she was kind, but by no means was she weak. She and Anne were the heart of the 2nd Mass. While Evelyn numbed herself to everything that went on around her, Lourdes opened her self up to it and accepted the pain so that she might better be able to help people. She was far stronger than Evelyn would ever be, and that was because of her faith. Right now that faith seemed to be crumbling, and it broke Evelyn's heart to see it.

When Lourdes finally looked up from her hands, tears were coursing down her face. Evelyn reached up and pulled her into a hug. They stayed that way for what felt like hours, with Lourdes sobbing into her shoulder. Evelyn didn't say a word. She just refused to let go.

When Lourdes finally withdrew from Evelyn's grasp, she had finished sobbing. She wiped at her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Evelyn could see her mouthing a silent prayer.

"Lourdes, I don't know what's wrong, but you can tell me. Whatever it is. I promise I won't tell a soul, I'm good at keeping secrets." Lourdes looked at Evelyn with a pained expression on her face. "Tell me or don't. Seriously, whatever you need."

Lourdes sucked in a breath and brought her eyes in line with Evelyn's. "I'll tell you, but you can't repeat a word. Not a word." Evelyn nodded frantically in assent. Lourdes brought both her hands to her head, dragging her fingers through her hair. Evelyn could see a slight movement of her scalp along her hairline. She was pulling on her hair much in the same way Evelyn did when she was anxious, as if that small bit of pain somehow detracted from the conflict they were facing.

"The skitters were harnessed."

Evelyn blinked suddenly. "Wh-what?"

Lourdes bit her lip and shook her head, tears threatening to spill over once again. "Anne and I autopsied a skitter body. When we got through the exoskeleton we saw a harness. It was like a new skin had grown over it. The basic physiology of the thing wasn't all that different from ours, based on what we saw it was closer to mammalian than insect. What if the skitters weren't skitters to begin with? What if they were changed from something else?"

Evelyn felt her chest constricting. She had been right, humans weren't the first species to experience this kind of domination. The fish-headed things weren't just commanders, they were masters and the skitters were their slaves. Back in Boston it had been established that they wouldn't tell anyone about the new discovery so as not to cause too much of panic so close to the attack, but Evelyn made up her mind. Lourdes had trusted her with this information, the least she could do was return the favor. And so she did.

By the time that Evelyn had finished her story, Lourdes was out of tears to shed. She looked numb. She wore an expression that Evelyn frequently saw on the own face, and that was unacceptable.

"Lourdes, this isn't the time to be giving up hope. San Tzu said 'know thy enemy', and he was right. The more we know about these things, the better we can fight them and the easier it will be to defeat them, OK?"

Lourdes just nodded.

Evelyn persevered. "Hey, look at me," she said shaking her shoulder. "Everything will be all right in the end... if it's not all right then it's not the end."

Evelyn didn't believe that now any more than she had the first time she said it, but it brought forth a reluctant smile on Lourdes's face.

"You think so?"

Evelyn forced a smile on her face to mirror that of her friend, trying not to think about what might happen to Ben and about what had obviously already happened to Rick, and she did what she did best. She lied. "Yeah, I do."

**Thanks again to my readers for supporting me through this effort. You guys are the best!**

**Disclaimer: The line "Everything will be all right in the end, Hal... if it's not all right then it's not the end." Originally came from the film 'The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel'. I just really liked the sound of it and chose to add it in.**

**REVIEWS KILL SKITTERS AND CAUSE CATASTROPHIC FAILURES IN THE MECH MACHINERY! Therefore all the characters would be grateful if you did!**

**Last chapter's pop culture references:**

**-~-~-~'They mostly come out at night…mostly' – Aliens**

**-~-~-~Leroy Jenkins – just youtube the name and you'll see!**

**-~-~-~'this probably counts as off-season' referring to Disneyland was the same thing Columbus said in Zombieland when talking about Pacific Playland.**


	20. Choking On Your Own Breath

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'Falling Skies' and any familiar dialogue I transcribed from my DVD Box Set. Unfortunately I don't own it.**

**Pictures of my OCs are on my profile. Copy the links and delete the spaces.**

**I made a soundtrack for the story which is also on my profile as another story. Songs are now available through chapter 18.**

Chapter 20 – Choking On Your Own Breath

Evelyn quietly closed the door behind her, leaving a slightly comforted Lourdes on the other side. But while her friend might have gained some peace of mind, any that Evelyn might have had was torn to ribbons. What she learned about the skitters, about what they really were, had no insignificant impact on what she saw in store for both Ben and Rick. The spikes had faded away on all the other harnessed kids, but not on those too. And Lourdes said that there was some rough, scaly skin forming around those spikes. Whatever had happened to them, it was spreading.

She collapsed against the wall on the other side of the door, trying not to hyperventilate. Ben looked like a normal kid most of the time, but other times—other times she would catch him looking at his own hands, opening and closing them as if trying to find out what exactly it was that they were capable of. And Rick, Rick was another story altogether. She had yet to see a single real, human emotion cross his face. He rarely ever made eye contact with anyone, and when he did it was if he was looking through you, not at you.

Evelyn reached behind her and pulled out the papers she had rolled up and shoved down the back of her jeans while Lourdes had her head buried in her hands. She unrolled them. It was those drawings Anne had the harnessed kids do, that art therapy thing. Evelyn had initially thought it was a complete racket, but as she fumbled clumsily through the pages she could see how they might be useful. Each of them had a name and a date written on the back upper right-hand corner of the paper. Evelyn quickly sorted them by date and by 'artist'. She made sure to keep the pictures turned away from her the entire, not wanting to form any sort of prejudgment of the recovery of any of the kids. She straightened out the pile, leaving Ben's and Rick's at the bottom.

As she flipped through the drawings of Hannah, James, and Eric, three of the kids the 2nd Mass had rescued from the skitters, she noticed a bit of a pattern. In the beginning, the skitters featured prominently, and were frequently associated with the small figures of children. Over time the skitters seemed to move farther and farther from the mangled variations of stick figures that invariably appear in the art of younger kids, and other figures, bigger ones which Evelyn presumed were adults, would appear. Finally, by the end of the sequences, the skitters were nowhere to be seen. What she saw in those pictures was a gradual and healthy recovery of the kids.

When she got to Ben's drawings she tensed a little, fearing that she may come across something irregular. Nothing in his drawings reflected anything out of the ordinary. But then again, he was older than the others. He was much better equipped to modulate and control what he drew to fit the preconceived narrative that Anne expected or wanted him to have. Evelyn took a deep breath in frustration. There was nothing in Ben's drawings to worry her, but it didn't stop her from worrying. Absence of evidence was not evidence of absence. But then again one was typically considered innocent until proven guilty. Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut and shoved the conflicting TV cop-drama anecdotes out of her mind before moving on to Rick. She gritted her teeth and did her best to remain objective about what she was about to see.

Rick's first few drawings were much like those of the other kids, a few small kids with a skitter, but as time went on the differences between them became more and more obvious. The pictures weren't always of the skitters, sometimes it was houses and sometimes it was fields of flowers, but whenever the skitters were featured, they were right next to the children, looking over them in almost a maternal fashion. But the realization that disturbed her the most came when she studied that picture of a street of houses, the one he had folded up and given to Weaver. In the lower left hand corner she saw a small little insignia, almost like a signature. Evelyn brought the page closer to her face, squinting to get a good look at what it was. When she could finally make it out, she saw six legs and two arms. With her shaking hands she went back through all of Rick's work and low and behold that little mark was on each and every page. Evelyn could feel her chest constricting. The kid identified more with the skitters than he did with humans. What did that mean for Ben?

Evelyn's mind was hurtling a million miles an hour when there was a sudden thud right next to her.

"JESUS!" She jumped and quickly amassed the pictures together and glanced up at the intruder. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, taking a breath to calm her nerves. "Mags, how many times have I told you NOT to do that!"

Maggie scooted over until they were shoulder to shoulder. "It's not like I snuck up on you or anything, you're in the middle of a frigging hallway." She looked at the papers clutched in Evelyn's hand. "What's with the third grade art project?"

"Hm?" Evelyn followed her gaze. "Oh. Just choosing which one to put on the fridge, you know, when we get one. I'm partial to the one with Rambo taking down a mech." Evelyn quickly rolled up the papers and shoved them in her pocket. Maggie furrowed her eyebrows in suspicion, but just brushed it off with a shrug of her shoulders. That was their dynamic. They knew things about each other nobody else did, and they trusted each other completely with those deeply personal secrets. There was a deep bond there that really couldn't be broken. It had been there since Evelyn was thirteen years old, and hadn't wavered even through all of Maggie's mistakes and all of her own. But at the same time they were entirely aware that they kept secrets from each other, and they had an unspoken understanding that they would not ask questions the other did not want to answer.

Evelyn cleared her throat and shimmied her way back up the wall so that her back was straight against the wall. She cleared her throat. "So, what's up?"

"Well, everyone's jumping up and down outside like it's the friggin' fourth of July and I was just wondering where the little chickadee flew off to."

"Well 'Independence Day' is kind of an a propos model of human behavior given the circumstances."

Maggie rolled her head to the side to give her a sardonic look. "Really, Evelyn? Do you ever stop with the pop culture references? Can't you ever just answer the goddamn question that's been asked of you?"

Evelyn cracked her neck and stretched her arms over her head. "You know me, Big Bird. Never was one for crowds." Maggie drummed her fingers on her leg like she always did when she had something to say, but wasn't sure how to say it. Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Out with it, Mags. You were never one for pulling your punches, literally or figuratively."

The drumming stopped and Maggie gave a small nod of her head. "Saw you out there with Pope," she said popping the 'p' and the end of the name. "What was that about?"

Evelyn shrugged. "Just introducing myself."

Maggie kept her eyes trained on Evelyn's face. Evelyn could feel them digging into her brain. "It looked like you two already knew each other more than a little bit. You need to be careful around him, kid. He's…not a good guy." Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, but Maggie's comment sent Evelyn into a fit of giggles. Maggie looked at her as if she was insane. "What the hell is your problem?"

Evelyn brought her hand to her chest, trying to catch her breaths between sobs of laughter. "Mags, I'm perfectly—" more laughter "—perfectly aware that Pope is NOT a good guy. I inferred that from the tattoos, the familiarity with explosives, the skitter claws around his neck, the general lack of hygiene—"

"Hey," Maggie interrupted with a deadly tone, "I have tattoos." Evelyn raised a single eyebrow and Maggie sighed. "OK, I see your point. But still, stay away from the guy. Or at least be careful."

Evelyn nudged her shoulder against the older girl's. When she spoke her voice was filled with both comfort and concern. "Hey. I don't know what went down with Pope's gang—I don't know what Pope did to you—and I have no intention of asking you, but I know it was bad. You don't have to worry about me and Pope. I can take care of myself, and in a lot of ways I have you to thank for that. I don't trust him, I don't like him, I don't respect him, but I do see his value. He's an exploitable resource that can be taken advantage of." Evelyn grimaced and shook her head. "That really came out wrong. Ugh. Look, all I'm saying is that he's useful, no matter how skeevy he might be." Evelyn turned to the girls who had been her sister for the past five years. "We good?"

Maggie smiled at her. "Always." Evelyn pushed herself to her feet. "Where are you going?"

"Music room. It's time to bang out my frustrations on a keyboard while I still can." While her back was turned Evelyn quickly folded the pictures into a small square and shoved them into her pocket. She did an about-face, turning of her heels so that she was looking down at Maggie. "You wanna come?"

"That depends," Maggie said with a small smile, "you going to play the Moonlight Sonata?"

Evelyn reached out an arm and pulled Maggie to her feet. "I don't see why not."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Evelyn and Maggie had stayed in the music room until lunchtime, one of them playing and the other one disassembling and reassembling a handgun. On her way out to the lunch line she stopped by the medical bay. After peeking in to ensure that it was empty, she returned the pictures, quickly depositing them back in their original location. She made her way to the gym and blew through the lunch line, almost regretting that Pope wasn't there to plop the day's mystery goop onto her plate. She had worked out this whole joke comparing him to the Swedish chef on the Muppets that she really wanted to make use of. But Pope was off building bombs and Evelyn's personal amusement was not exactly a priority. Right now her priority was Ben. She needed to talk to him alone.

She caught sight of him sitting at the edge of the gym bleachers a couple of meters away, with Amy next to him, her hands flying about wildly as they always did when she was excited about the topic of conversation. Evelyn smiled to herself a bit as she saw how difficult it was for Ben to choke down his food in between sobs of laughter. Evelyn ascended the bleachers on the side opposite them, then crossing over so she would come up behind them. When she finally came into hearing range of Amy's voice, Evelyn furrowed her eyebrows with confusion at the topic at hand.

"—and then he scores the final goal, winning the state championships, without becoming a teen wolf. AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!"

Evelyn sat down heavily behind the pair, causing them both to jump. "That movie never made any sense to me. If a guy started sprouting hair all over the place and howling at the moon, there is absolutely no way the other kids in high school would be cool with it, even if he was friggin' Michael Jordan on the basketball court."

Amy turned to face Evelyn, shaking her head and her eyes filled with pity. "You're always so literal, Evey. It makes me sad for you, missing out on so much joy in life. How about some suspension of disbelief?"

Evelyn smiled at Amy's use of that nickname. She and Ben had obviously been spending a lot of time together. "Amy, we're living in a world of marauding aliens trying to take over the world. My life is some sort of crazy combo of 'War of the Worlds' and "The Puppet Masters'. Any sort of 'disbelief' I may have had to begin with is pretty much shattered." Evelyn waved her spoon around for emphasis. "But if there is a single universal truth in this world, it is that incredibly hairy teenagers will never be accepted by their compatriots. No way, no how."

Another voice entered the conversation. "Now there's a story behind that I definitely want to here."

Evelyn glanced to her right and saw Hal making his way towards them. She flushed in embarrassment and began to absently pick at her food as he sat down next to her. She had to talk to Ben, and that scenario seemed more and more improbable. "Nope. No story, just commenting on the universality of adolescent exclusionary practices within the context of classic 1980s cinema."

Hal paused, mouth filled with rice, and looked at his younger brother. "Wha da 'ell is she talkin' about?"

Ben glanced at Hal, still jabbing at his food in that nervous, twitchy way he seemed to have adopted since he had been de-harnessed. "Um. Well, Evey here seems to find the plot of 'Teen Wolf' implausible."

Hal swallowed loudly and nodded. "Yeah. I've got to agree with her on that point. I mean, I avoided her all through high school when she looked like that," he said gesturing up and down with his fork.

Evelyn gave him a warning look. "Hal—"

"Yeah, yeah. Objectification is bad, but can you let it go this once? I'm agreeing with you."

Evelyn narrowed her eyes and blew the hair out of her eyes with a huff. "Humph. You're lucky I like being right so much."

Hal cracked his most irritating smile. "It's what I count on every day." Evelyn punched his shoulder and he just laughed.

Amy let out a disgusted noise. "Ugh. Could the two of you stop verbally copulating, at least while I'm eating? It's seriously putting me off my lunch." She picked up a spoonful of her meal and let it slop back onto the plate, making a face. "It wasn't all that appealing to begin with, and with the two of you I'm not sure I'll be able to force it down."

Evelyn flushed red and Hal cleared his throat awkwardly, scratching furiously at the back of his neck. Ben, on the other hand, choked on the food he had in his mouth, barely swallowing it down before he was sent into a coughing fit which strongly resembled a wheezing laugh. Amy kept her eyes on the two older kids and leaned towards Ben, speaking in a loud whisper. "Did I make things awkward? I feel like I just made things awkward."

Ben forced out a few words through the 'coughs' still wracking his body. "Yeah," hack, splutter, cough, "yeah, Amy. You made it awkward."

Amy scarfed down the rest of her food and stood up. "OK," she said wiping at the corners of her mouth, "this is usually the part where Evelyn starts throwing things at me, so I'm going to leave." In true form, Evelyn bent back the neck of her plastic spoon and sent a food projectile that hit Amy square in the forehead. "Yeah, I'm leaving. See you later, Ben. Behave yourselves, Bonnie and Clyde." Amy wiped at her forehead and ran down the bleachers, tripping a bit on the bottom step and falling on the basketball court below. She threw herself to her feet and straightened her clothes. "I'm fine. I'm cool. I'm good." And then she made her way out of the gym with a prancing skip. Ben watched her leave with a silly smile on his face.

Evelyn groaned and ran her hands through her hair. "I swear one day I'm going to kill that kid."

Hal laughed lightly. "I don't think you should do that, Evey. Then Ben would have to find himself another girlfriend."

Ben's head swung around so quickly part of Evelyn believed that she was about to witness a full-on Linda Blair exorcist moment. His eyes were so wide they looked like they were about to pop out of his head. "I-I'm not—I mean we're not—we're just—"

Evelyn smacked Hal in the chest again, trying to conceal her laughter. "Stop being an ass-hat, Hal. It's not his fault Amy made you blush like a schoolgirl. Don't take out your need to overcompensate on him."

Hal affected a befuddled expression. "Come on, Evey! I'm just trying to give some brotherly advice. He should seriously do something about that—" he gestured in Amy's direction "—before someone else does. There aren't plenty of fish in the sea anymore, and only a few of the fish are cute."

At that Evelyn slammed a fist on her knee and turned to look at Hal, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. "Excuse me?"

It was Hal's turn to be flustered. Ben smiled into his plate of food. "True beauty is on the inside, big brother," he said with a sardonic tone.

Evelyn assembled her features into a meaningful expression, pointed at the younger Mason and nodded in agreement. "Out of the mouths of babes."

Ben stood up abruptly. "OK, as much as I love your 'bash Ben' conversations, I'm supposed to go visit Dr. Glass for another checkup."

As Ben began to make his way out of the gym, Evelyn saw her opportunity to talk to him alone. She shoved the few bites of food she had left into her mouth and stood up to leave. "I should probably go too. Things to do and all that—"

As she took a step down the bleachers, she felt Hal grab at her hand. When she turned around, he wasn't looking at her face. He was staring off into the distance with a blank expression on his face. "Hal? What's wrong?"

He shook himself back to attention. "Hm?" He looked almost surprised to see his hand holding hers. His gaze snapped from where his hands were joined to meet her questioning eyes. "Oh, right. I—I just wanted to say thanks for what you said earlier. About Karen. Not a lot of people would do that for someone they had never met before. Especially someone who…I just wanted to say thanks." He cleared his throat and released her hand, running his over his face.

Evelyn offered up a small smile. "Any time, Hal."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

By the time Evelyn caught up with Ben, he was already rounding the corner into the infirmary. Evelyn cursed silently to herself. Why was it so difficult to get this kid alone? She leaned against the wall just outside the door, banging the back of her head against the wall a few times in her frustration. She took a few breaths, came up with an excuse, and rolled into the room.

Ben was sitting on that cold, metal table that she was all too familiar with. His shirt was off and Anne was poking at the area around it with a scalpel.

"Do you feel anything? Anything at all?"

Ben shook his head. "Nope. Should I? Is something wrong?"

Anne responded a bit too quickly for Evelyn to fully believe what she was saying. "No, nothing wrong. I just think the harness might have damaged some of the nerves of the surface tissue around the spikes."

When Ben glanced back over his shoulder to look at Anne, Evelyn knew that he too could see that she was lying. His eyebrows were creased into a barely discernable frown.

"Hey Evelyn!" Evelyn spun around to see Lourdes walking towards her with a tray of medical supplies in hand. She looked better than she had before lunch. Well, she was Catholic and had confessed her secrets. Not to a priest or anything, but maybe she felt absolved. Lourdes continued to walk past Evelyn, bringing the tray to Anne. "What's up?"

"Oh, um, I think I might have agitated the shoulder I dislocated earlier, what with the cartwheels and all." Evelyn rolled her shoulder with a subtle wince to sell her story. "I was wondering if you had any spare aspirin lying around."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Just over here." Evelyn followed Lourdes over to the shelves, glancing back at where Ben and Anne sat. The sunlight flowing in through the windows hit the spikes, causing them to glow slightly and casting long, angry shadows on the rest of his back. It was unnerving.

Lourdes grabbed a bottle from the back of the shelf and shook a few pills into her hand, giving them to the red-head standing next to her. "Do you want some wa—" Evelyn popped the pills into her mouth and threw head back, swallowing them down without the water Lourdes had been about to offer. It was technique she had perfected after many years and many pills. Lourdes cleared her throat awkwardly. "I guess you don't need any then."

Evelyn stayed with Lourdes made banal chitchat for a few minutes, but Evelyn's attention was centered on the boy sitting in the periphery of her plane of vision. When she saw him pulling his shirt back over his head, she quickly made her excuses and made her way out of the infirmary, waiting for him just on the other side of the door. When Ben finally exited, she grabbed his ear and pulled him down the hallway, ignoring his protests and looking for an empty classroom. Subtlety never was one of her virtues When she finally found one, she pushed him inside, locked the door, and pulled down the shade that covered the window into the hallway.

Evelyn took a breath and spun around, arms crossed and face bearing an expression of carefully orchestrated nonchalance. "So, Ben, how've you been?"

Ben was staring at her like she was completely insane and was rubbing furiously at his recently assaulted ear. "Um, well, I'm wondering why I've just been dragged down the hall by my ear like a misbehaving dog."

"Don't bullshit me Ben. You know what I meant."

He shook his head. "I'm not bullshitting you, Evey. My ear really hurts."

Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, drawing small circles over sinuses to ward off the headache that was threatening to form. "I'll be more specific then," she said, looking up at him, trying to convey in that stare how serious she really was. "What's going on with you and Rick?"

The mouth that was previously hanging open slightly snapped shut. "R-Rick's fine. I mean, he's still upset about his dad dying. He's quiet and keeps to himself mostly. But he's fine. I've only talked to him a few times but—"

Evelyn dropped her hand to her side and stared up at the mildewing corkboard ceiling that seemed to be standard issue for northeastern high schools. She tried to choke down the frustration and mild disappointment that Ben was beginning to inspire. "There you go bullshitting me again, Ben. You're a terrible liar. Usually that's a trait I appreciate in a person, but right now I'm finding it really fucking annoying, because trust me, I would much rather leave this room believing a pretty lie than being smacked in the face with the unpleasant truth I know I'll eventually get out of you." She paused for a breath and brought her narrowed eyes down to meet the widened ones of the scared teenage boy before her. "I saw you after Pope destroyed the mech earlier. I saw Rick. I saw you seeing Rick. I saw you jumping rope for over two hours straight. Basically there was a hell of a lot 'seeing' going on and now you're lying to me about that 'seeing' and I'm saying that I don't like it."

Ben blinked. "Wait, what?"

"You heard me. Now start talking, because eventually I'm going to crack you like a bad back and I'd really rather not go through the effort. I hurt my shoulder."

Ben bit his lip and nodded slowly, making his way to one of the multitude of empty desks that filled the room. Evelyn went to sit next to him. On that flat writing surface in front of her she found what looked like a scribbled conversation between two bored students. Most of it was wiped away but she could just barely make out the words 'I think Professor McDrab is a wizard, he seems to have developed the capacity to stop time entirely (we'll be here till the end of time itself)'. And then next to it were a couple of drawings of penises with the caption 'this is you'. Evelyn smiled in spite of herself. High school really was the same everywhere.

When she turned to face Ben, his shoulders were hunched and his hands were balled into fists, knuckles white. She reached out and put her hand on his, which brought him to look her full in the face. "Look, Ben, you know I love you like a brother, right? You Masons are pretty much the closest thing to a real family I've ever had."

He gave a quick nod. "Yeah, Evey. I know."

Evelyn sighed. "Good. But you'll do well to remember that I'm not family. I'm not going to go sprinting to Tom or to Hal the moment you say anything to me. I know you don't really know why, but I can understand the situation you're in better than anyone else here. I'm guessing better even than Rick, given the way he's been behaving. So talk to me."

They sat there in silence for a few moments. Evelyn let Ben find the words he was looking for.

"Rick thinks he's one of the skitters."

Evelyn sucked in a sudden breath. "What?"

Ben purposefully avoided her gaze. "It was after his dad was killed by Clayton's guys. At his funeral. I went up to Rick to tell him I was sorry—you know, about everything with his dad. He said 'we' would never do that to each other."

"You mean the second—"

Ben shook his head fervently. "No, Evey, not the 2nd Mass. Skitters. The 'we' was the skitters. And me." The last words were so quiet Evelyn had barely heard them spoken.

Evelyn felt her hand tighten around Ben's. He cringed a little bit, like he was expecting her to scream or to run or to burn him at the stake as a witch. He visibly twitched when she brought her arm around his shoulders to pull him into a hug. "You didn't tell me anything I didn't already expect to hear Ben. I looked at his art therapy drawings and it looked like he had some weird Freudian mother complex with the skitters." She took a deep breath. "You need to tell Tom. You need to tell your dad."

At that Ben threw her arm off of him and jumped out of his seat. "No. I-I can't do that. If people know about Rick, they'll hate us, be scared of us. We'll be the enemy."

Evelyn stood up and walked up to Ben, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Not the enemy, Ben. You're not Rick"

His hands went to his head, grasping at the hair. "But I could be. What if I become like him? What if I already am?"

Evelyn lowered her voice, trying to soothe the figure before who, despite the spikes protruding from his back, was nothing more that a scared little boy. "Do you love the skitters, Ben?"

"Wh—no. Of course not. They took my mom, they took me. I hate them."

Evelyn shrugged her shoulders casually, as if this conversation was completely normal and benign. "Then you're not Rick. As long as you hate them, you're not Rick."

Ben nodded slowly, staring at the floor. His face hardened with resolve, but when he looked back up at her, there were tears forming behind his eyes. "What am I, Evey?"

"You're you, Ben. And in my book, that's a pretty fantastic thing to be."

**So that's chapter 20! Thank you guys so much for the reading/reviewing/following/favoriting.**

**I absolutely love getting reviews, they make my day, so type away on your little computer machines and push the button below!**

**Also, they kill skitters.**


	21. Maps

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'Falling Skies' and any familiar dialogue I transcribed from my DVD Box Set. Unfortunately I don't own it.**

**Pictures of my OCs are on my profile. Copy the links and delete the spaces.**

**I made a soundtrack for the story which is also on my profile as another story. **

Chapter 21 – Maps

That night Evelyn found herself sitting cross-legged on a desk in a dark room with Weaver and Tom. Back in the real world she would have gotten yelled at by some high school teacher with a God complex. In this Stephen Spielberg movie of a life she was going over the plans for the invasion which would arrive in a few days time. Looking at the maps spread out over the table, Evelyn was once again impressed with the sheer responsibility those in command were subjected to. Each of these maps had lines and diagrams on them so detailed that they may as well be hung up in the Louvre. Looking at that map made her feel like she was looking into the future. Those lines were the paths she would travel, and those x's marked bottlenecks and ambushes, the places where she would most likely die.

During her foray as the leader of a post-apocalyptic gang of misfits, Evelyn had become vaguely familiar with the pressures of such a position. It was like every life was tied to your own. You could feel the pulse and hear the breath of each man, woman, or child who followed you. You were the parent of dozens, or, in the case of Weaver and Tom, hundreds. Tom was the mother, looking after everyone and keeping the moral high while giving them the support necessary to fight the good fight. Weaver was the father, pushing them into the deep end with the confidence that they would make it through. But this wasn't a family that sat around the dinner table discussing how their day was. This was a family that fought together, and died together.

As her mind wandered back to the burdens of leadership, Evelyn sucked in a breath. It felt like a knife it the gut, those memories. When your responsible for a unit, every death loomed over your head like a grey cloud, and the more deaths there were, the darker that cloud would get. Evelyn had only lost one, and his young face appeared in her dreams all the time. It was burned into her brain. Sometimes he was being dragged into darkness, insect-like legs curling around his body and his childlike voice calling out her name. Sometimes he was harnessed, staring at her with blank eyes that had once been so vibrant and enthusiastic, with one of the fish-heads standing next to him and making his voice say it was all her fault. Sometimes he was standing there with a knife in his throat, blood gurgling out of his mouth and his eyes asking her why before he collapsed to the ground in a heap, just like the man she had actually killed. She would never wake up from those dreams. She wanted to, but she never could. Her guilt wouldn't allow her to. She would relive those visions over and over again, and in the morning, when the light hit her face, she would wake to find her brow covered in sweat or her fingertips covered in blood from the raised, angry scratches she made on back of her neck while she was asleep, tearing at the scar that was already there. Those were the days that she wore her hair down. Hal had said she looked pretty with her hair down. She shuddered to think what would happen if he actually knew what it meant.

Evelyn had lost Steven. Tom had lost his wife, and had possibly still lost Ben. But Weaver was a different story. The military was a brotherhood, a place where fighters shared an inherent bond, one bound by blood that they spilt for each other. A bond that reminded her of the one she shared with Maggie. She had lost Steven. Weaver had lost so many more. It was no wonder he couldn't sleep at night. His nightmares were there even when he was awake.

Evelyn tried to pay attention to the words that were being said, but found it almost impossible. After everything she had learned in the past twenty-four hours, the 'overlords', the harnessed skitters, Rick, she felt exhausted. She was getting headaches again, but they were psychological rather than physiological. Her head was like a piñata of secrets, crack it open and who knows what would fall out. She was the anti-social, emotionally unavailable one, how was it that she became the universal confidante of the 2nd Mass? Maybe people thought she was an android with a hard drive instead of a brain, gears instead of a heart, and oil instead of blood. Life would certainly be easier if that were the case.

Evelyn continued to shake herself awake, but she was constantly distracted by the flickering light of the candles in the room. Fire was basically the opposite of water, but as she saw the flames dance, it occurred to her that they behaved in much the same way, moving in ripples and never, ever stopping. When she was a kid, she would run her fingers through the flame, quickly enough so that she wouldn't get burned. Then one day, her father showed her a game he used to play with his brothers when he was a kid. They would hold a finger in the flame and wait until the others gave up. He had always been the one to win. The first time they had played, she tried to move her hand away, but he hadn't let her. Because she was a Walsh. And the Walshes were winners.

"Is our little war boring you, Walsh?"

The use of her surname snapped her back to attention. Weaver and Tom were both staring at her, annoyance on the former's face and concern on the latter's. Evelyn shook herself awake.

"Sorry, sir. I'm used to powerpoint format. I'm a visual learner."

Weaver rolled his eyes and continued. "OK. Well we've got our plans in order, but we still need news from command as to the situation on the ground. I'm sending Dai out at first light tomorrow to contact Colonel Porter and his men."

Evelyn un-crossed her legs and slung them over the edge of the desk, kicking them back and forth like a small child. She cleared her throat to bring some attention back to herself. "There should be two." She felt eyes turn to her once again. She looked between Tom and Weaver, vaguely confused by their expression of confusion. "I-I mean there should be, shouldn't there? It's possible that skitters have moved into the roadways since we passed by. And it's not like all the non-alien threats are gone, right? What if he gets in an accident or something? What if his bike breaks down? It would be pretty sucky if the skitters got to put a check in the win column because of a faulty spark plug. We need some insurance."

Weaver stroked his chin in that sensei way he did sometimes. "OK, OK. Red makes a good point. We need some insurance." He looked towards Tom who was still pouring over the map. "Who should we send?"

Evelyn raised her hand. It seemed appropriate given the menu. "I'll go."

Tom looked up at her, shaking his head. The warmth and concern in his eyes were even more poignant by candlelight. "Evey—"

But Weaver cut him off before he could get the words out. And Evelyn was glad for it. "You've had a long day today, Walsh. You sure you're up for it?"

Evelyn took a deep breath, her eyes staring at nothing, and nodded with conviction. She had only been back for fourteen hours, but she needed to get away for a while. "I wouldn't have volunteered otherwise. I just need a few hours of shuteye and I'll be good to go."

Weaver nodded. "Alright, then. It'll be good to send someone who knows the route anyway. You go find Dai and give him the orders. This hour of night he should be in the art room. The two of you will be moving out at 06:00 hours. That'll get you to Porter's post by noon. You should be back right before sundown."

Evelyn hopped off the desk and ran towards the door. She paused a bit at the doorframe and looked back at the two men she was about to leave. Tom was glaring at Weaver. Evelyn smiled to herself. It was the same look that frequently appeared on her own face. The one Hal had dubbed her 'mom look'. When she saw Tom open his mouth, she darted through the door and quickly shut it behind her, squeezing her eyes shut in frustration as she heard the raised voices. She took a breath and headed out to find Dai. No one likes it when mom and dad are fighting. Which in her childhood was all the time.

She could hear the smack of her feet against the laminate floors of the high school hallway. It was something she had done a thousand times before, but in the dark with only candles to light her way, it still felt foreign. It still felt wrong. When she finally opened the door to the art room, she shuddered. That room really creeped her out. Apparently the students had been in the middle of working on self-portraits or something like that. Most of the paintings of them were half finished. Some of the students, whether it was intentional or not, had gone for a Picasso-vibe which ended up looking truly frightening. But that wasn't what unnerved Evelyn. It was all of the eyes that were looking at her, the eyes of the dead. It was the difference between what she saw in that room and what was produced after the invasion. All she saw produced were macabre images of death and destruction, the same death and destruction that took the lives of those students.

When she finally found Dai among the sleeping bodies that surrounded her, she tapped on his shoulder to bring him into consciousness. When that failed her, she shook his shoulder lightly and saw his eyes flutter open a little. But she wasn't prepared for what came next. A hand shot up out of the darkness and met her throat. She could feel her trachea constricting under the grip, cutting off her breath. She slapped at the hand, her eyes rolling into the back of her head slightly. When Dai finally truly gained consciousness, his eyes widened and he released her immediately. She rapidly scrambled backwards away from him and almost colliding with the other sleeping figure behind her, clutching at her neck and gasping for breath. The two of them stared at each other for what was probably seconds, but felt like minutes. Her eyes were all fear and vulnerability while his shone with regret and worry. There was more to this man than that calm, laconic exterior, and Evelyn was fairly confident that she didn't want to see the face of the wizard behind the curtain. Eventually she grabbed his hand and dragged him into the hallway.

When she quietly closed the door behind, she got right down to business. She trusted Dai in the field, even after what just happened. By now she had learned that different people could be trusted in different contexts, and she knew Dai could be trusted in combat. Max was great with tactical advice and horrible with personal advice. Amy was great with crowds and, in Evelyn's not at all biased opinion, terrible with one-on-one conversation. Dai could be trusted in combat. Her experience had shown her that much. She cleared her throat, her hand subconsciously rubbing at where she had felt the pressure of his fingertips.

"So—so Weaver needs us to head over to command central to rendez-vous with Porter. To get the last minute specs before the attack and to give them our root. We leave at 06:00 hours, so be ready. So—yeah, goodnight."

And Evelyn turned to move back to the music room where she and Maggie slept. When she began to walk away, she felt a hand grab hers. She yanked it away and spun around, ready to run away like a frightened deer.

Dai threw his hands in the air and backed away a few steps, indicating that he meant her no harm. "It's OK, it's OK. I just wanted to apologize because of—" He licked his lips and looked at the floor, clearly agitated. He took another step forward and she took another step back. "About what happened, I—"

Evelyn shook her head. "No, nope, not happening. I don't want to hear about it. There's too much in my brain to begin with so…let's just forget it. I'll never wake you up again, 'cause your kind of a douche in the mornings. No offense, or whatever. Let's just— We have a job to do, so let's just do it." She looked at Dai meaningfully and he nodded. "OK, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yup. See you tomorrow."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

When Evelyn woke the next morning, she wiped the sleep from her eyes, rolled out of bed, and headed off towards the armory. Everyone was still asleep. When she passed by the window she caught sight of her reflection, the instinctual reaction of any teenage girl. But this time when she saw it there were four dark circles on the outside of her neck. She zipped up her jacket so Dai wouldn't see them. When she finally got to the armory, Dai was already there. They nodded at each other. That was their only greeting. They assembled their weapons in silence and, side by side, took the long walk out to the bikes that waited for them.

They kicked the bikes into gear and headed out towards Porter's command center, or stronghold, or whatever the hell he called it. Evelyn followed Dai, pushing the events of the last night out of her mind and focusing instead on her surroundings. She kept her senses hyperaware, looking for any potential threats. She felt like she was playing that crappy game that she used to have on her graphing calculator. The one that she played when her narcoleptic high school teacher was 'reading his notes' for too long. It was called 'Drop'. All she had to do was avoid all of the debris that had collected on the road, but at these speeds 'game over' meant you were dead.

She watched as Dai, who was in front of her, popped a wheelie on his bike, something she had always been too scared to try. Hal said Dai had taught him how to do that. But where had Dai learned? Tom had said that he was a money manager before all this had happened. Where had he learned how to shoot, how to fight? Who the hell was this guy?

Evelyn mentally shook her head. In this world, everyone's past was past. It had no bearing on the present. Hell, if people knew about Maggie they might be a lot less polite. But Evelyn knew what had happened with Maggie, she had no idea about Dai. But she tried to force it from her mind. That sort of knowledge was unnecessary. Nobody else knew about Maggie's past, but in Evelyn's mind she was completely trustworthy. She wished the rest of the 2nd Mass would see her that way. Why was it any different with Dai?

Answer: It wasn't.

Tom trusted Dai, so she would too.

When they finally pulled up in front of the headquarters, the police precinct of some rural Massachusetts town, everything was in a state of movement. Orders were being shouted and men were running around with guns in hand. They were mobilizing. When she looked to Dai, she saw the same question on his face that she knew was etched onto hers. Sensing the urgency of the situation, they both hopped off their bikes and made their way into HQ.

The chaos was even more palpable inside the precinct than it appeared from the outside. Everyone was scrambling. Food was being shoved into boxes. Maps were being rolled up. Guns were being loaded. A guy about Evelyn's age ran past them. She grabbed the back of his shirt collar so he stumbled backwards a little.

"What the hell?"

He gave her a look that was clearly intended to melt her face off, so she decided to make it quick. "Porter?"

The kid jerked his thumb back towards the interrogation rooms. She and Dai hurried in the indicated direction and flew through the door. Porter was there leaning over a table, a map spread out over it. It was a scene almost identical to the one last night, but this time she could feel the fear emanating around her. Porter's voice was coming out in strained, hoarse whispers.

"—need to get out of here now. They'll be bearing down on us any second now."

Evelyn cleared her throat to get his attention. His eyes snapped up to meet hers, shaded with anger at having been interrupted. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Dai stepped forward. "We're here to touch base before the attack on that structure in Boston." He paused and glanced down to the map on the table. "What's going on here?"

Porter folded up the map and slung his weapon across his back. "We got word that there is a fleet of mechs headed straight towards us. The enemy knows where we are and their going to strike. And soon. We're getting the hell out of here—" he gestured between the two of them "—the two of you should do the same. Their ships could be bearing down on us any second."

Evelyn nodded and turned to Dai. "I'll go refuel the bikes and get them ready to go." She quickly darted out of the room to find the necessary materials, almost getting trampled a few times in the process. She filled the bikes and sat by them, waiting for Dai to emerge. She tapped her fingers anxiously against her thigh, willing him to walk out that front door. When he finally appeared at the door, she almost breathed a sigh of relief. Until she saw his face. That face did not spell good news.

At that moment she heard mechanical whirring noises, but they weren't coming from the ground. They were coming from the sky. She had barely even registered the ships overhead when she heard the first bomb go off. And then she didn't hear anything at all. And all she saw was black.

**So this chapter was a bit shorter, and no Hal, but it was absolutely necessary for plot advancement. There's not much funny stuff here either. I'm actually a bit disappointed in this chapter, but I want to move on to the next thing.**

**Thank you guys so much for reading/reviewing/following/favoriting.**

**A special thank you to Wendy for giving me my 100th review!**


	22. Because I'm Already Dead

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'Falling Skies' and any familiar dialogue I transcribed from my DVD Box Set. Unfortunately I don't own it.**

**Pictures of my OCs are on my profile. Copy the links and delete the spaces.**

**I made a soundtrack for the story which is also on my profile as another story. **

Chapter 22 – Because I'm Already Dead

When Evelyn regained consciousness, everything was still dark. Was she blind? Maybe she was dead. If that were the case she owed Lourdes twenty dollars, there was something after death. If there was, she was probably in hell. She had killed a man after all. But then something occurred to her. Hell probably didn't come with air conditioning.

As Evelyn's faculties slowly focused, she became more and more aware of her surroundings. She was lying on her back. She could feel vibrations through the floor and could hear the sputtering of an engine. She was in a car. Unfortunately this newfound awareness was accompanied by a throbbing ache in the back of her head. When she brought her hand up to identify the source of the pain she was feeling, her fingers were met by a cloth soaked in some sticky liquid. It didn't take her long to realize that what she felt was actually her own blood.

Evelyn grappled with the cloth. Apparently someone had wrapped her head in a towel and held it there with a long strip of duct tape. When she ripped it away, she saw that this towel had once belonged to a little girl. It bore the images all the Disney princesses, their once elegant ball gowns now soaked in her blood. Those were some highly traumatized cartoons The daylight now hitting her face made her eyes burn in pain. She blinked repeatedly and rubbed at them with heels of her hand.

The car hit a bump, causing Evelyn's head to bounce off the floor and then slam back down again, causing a searing pain to shoot out from the base of her skull and down her neck. Groaning, she pushed herself up on her elbows and took in her surroundings. What she saw made her wonder again if she was actually dead. Or maybe she was just hallucinating. She was in what looked like an old VW bus which was, as the kids say, 'pimped out'. It was covered in a white shag carpet and had a disco ball hanging from the ceiling. As the car rocked, the glittering sphere hit her in the forehead.

"Ugh." Evelyn scrambled to the window of the van to see where exactly she was. Peering out of the dirt-spattered window, she searched the road ahead of her for a sign, something to tell her where she was going.

"Acton, MA, 122 miles," she whispered to herself. Holy crap. She four hours into the ride back.

She heard a gasping cough emanating from the front of the bus. "Dai?'

The spluttering died down. "Evelyn? You alive back there?"

Evelyn reached for the back her head and touched the blood which was beginning to congeal, matting her hair into a giant, crusty mass. "Something like that. I can't say for sure just yet. I think I might be in the place Elvis went after he died."

She heard a wheezing laugh emanate from the front. "That answer's good enough me. Sorry you had to wake up in the Love Shack." And then the coughing took over again.

Evelyn move to the front of the bus. "Dai are you OK?"

He didn't answer. Sure the guy was laconic at his most talkative, but he would always answer a question when one was put to him. She parted the strands of the bead curtain that separated the back of the bus from the driver, smudging bright red blood on the white beads. It was almost pretty. She shoved her head to the front of the car. "Hey, Dai? Are you—HOLY SHIT!"

Well, now Evelyn knew who had tried to fix her head with a towel and some duct tape. Because he had done the exact same thing to himself. His stomach was wrapped in an angry yellow-colored towel, pressed down to his skin with silver duct tape. That towel probably once bore the obnoxious, smiling face of Spongebob Squarepants, but it was now soaked through with blood.

"Jesus, Dai! What the hell—"

"Shrapnel."

Evelyn climbed into the passenger's seat. "Dai, pull over."

"What? Why?"

"Believe it or not duct tape is not a viable medical tool. You're bleeding on the seats and ruining the leather."

Dai shook his head fervently. "No. We've got to get back to base." But it was just then that she saw his head droop and his hands fall from the wheel, losing consciousness for a moment. Evelyn cursed and grabbed the wheel before the car careened off the road. The jerking motion of the car from her overcorrection jolted Dai back to attention. He blinked several times, trying to maintain consciousness, but his eyes kept this glazed look.

"You need stitches. Now pull the fucking car over before you wrap this car around a tree and kill us both. Where's my pack." She crawled into the back again and rooted around until she found her pack. She felt the car slow down. When she felt it come to a complete stop, she jumped out the back and moved to the front of the car, dragging a semi-coherent Dai to the back. She peeled away the towel, feeling the cracking of the dried blood beneath her fingers and trying not to damage the flesh underneath any more than it already was. She sucked in a breath when she found what was underneath that towel. There was a deep gash to his abdomen. As far as she could see there was no damage to his internal organs, but he had lost, and was still losing, a lot of blood. She wiped away as much of the red, sticky liquid as she could and fished out the needle and thread in her pack. She pinched the skin together and slid the needle through. About five minutes later, she was done. It was a rather hackneyed job, but right now what Dai needed more than anything was Anne. This was just a stopgap until he got actual help.

Evelyn grabbed Dai underneath his shoulders and dragged him to the passenger's seat. She threw the car back into gear and floored it. She tried to monitor his condition as much as possible, but that was difficult while hurtling down a debris-strewn highway at 85 mile-an-hour speeds in a decrepit vehicle that resembled some sort of disturbing hybrid between the Scooby Doo bus and a 1970s bachelor pad. He was unconscious, but breathing. All Evelyn could do was hope that he would keep breathing until she managed to get back to the high school.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Not eighty minutes later the sun had just set, and Evelyn and Dai were still hurtling down rural roads at a rate that most certainly exceeded the speed limit. When Evelyn came within sight of the high school, her heart leapt with joy. She felt a sort of tingling in her fingers. For a moment she thought maybe it was due to the sheer relief of being back, but then it occurred to her that it was likely just an after-effect of the concussion she had suffered. Her ears were ringing. As she made her approach, at least four figures with guns made their way into the road, her highbeams reflecting off the muzzles of the rifles. Evelyn slammed on the brakes of the van, bringing it to a skidding halt a few meters before the human barricade which had just formed. The flashlights that shone on her face caused her eyes to ache beyond belief. She threw her arms over her face, both to hide herself from that light and to indicate that she wasn't in possession of any weapons. In the distance she heard a voice. It sounded like Anthony. "Stand down! It's Walsh! I said stand the fuck down!"

Then Evelyn heard the sound of boots crunching on gravel as the welcoming party arrived. Evelyn fumbled with the door handle until her hands found the lock. She threw it open and physically hauled herself out of the car and landing on her hands and knees, the jagged points of the gravel digging into her flesh. Her stomach contracted violently as her body tried to force out food and water that weren't there. The acid rose through her esophagus, scorching her throat as it spilled out of her mouth and onto the ground before her. She vaguely heard stomping feet and yelling voices that were right next to her, but everything was in a fog. Her body had finally given into the dehydration and concussion whose symptoms she had been fighting off for the past few hours. A pair of scuffed, brown boots appeared right next to her face. Evelyn felt strong hands taking hold of her beneath her shoulders, hauling her to her feet and bracing her against the car. Evelyn found herself face-to-face with one of the other fighters of the 2nd Mass. He had a strange name. Tector? She really didn't know him all that well. Based on his accent he sounded like he was from Texas and he shot like a soldier, but other than that he was a big, giant question mark of a man. He pinned her shoulders back against the car and shone the flashlight in her eyes. She blinked furiously as blue spots formed in her eyes. When the man in front of her finally came back into focus, she could see his lips moving, but couldn't hear the words being formed. He shook her a little, slamming her back into the hard surface behind her.

"—said can you hear me. You have a—"

"Concussion," Evelyn said, finishing his sentence for him. "Yeah, I know. The giant hammer being driven into my skull kind of tipped me off."

Tector nodded. "We need to get you to the medical bay."

Evelyn shook her head almost wildly. "No. Not me. Get Dai first. I'll live, but he might not, and he's the one who knows Porter's orders. I was knocked out when we left HQ, and he passed out before he got the chance to relay them to me."

Tector nodded and shouted at the men surrounding the limp figure of the man who had saved her life. "Boon, go get Weaver ASAP. Bring him to the medical bay. We've got to get Dai to Dr. Glass." The rest of the men scrambled and got Dai onto a makeshift stretcher, hauling him as fast as they could towards the medical bay. Evelyn screamed after them. "Blood type B negative! Tell Dr. Glass." She heard a shout of understanding come back to her.

Tector turned back to her and looked her in the eye. "You OK to walk?"

Evelyn took a single, ragged breath. "I think so." She put her hands on his biceps to steady herself and removed herself from the car, taking a few steps forward as he took a few steps back. When she moved to release his arms, she felt her head spin and her knees buckled beneath her.

Tector once again grabbed beneath her arms, keeping her from crashing to the ground. "Whoa, there darlin'. Don't hurt yourself any more than you already are."

Another figure came up behind her. "I got it. She's got to get some medical help." Evelyn felt herself being hoisted up into someone's arms, bridal style, and she came face-to-face with Anthony. He began walking briskly into the school, a big smile on his face as he looked down at her semi-coherent figure. But it was fake. He was keeping up a front, but she knew he could feel the thick crust of dried blood that coated the back of her head. "Damn, Eve. I swear you've got nine lives."

She laughed lightly. "Yeah. Each one seems to hurt a lot more than the last one."

His smile faltered a bit. The rest of the trek to the medical bay was done in complete silence. Evelyn looked around the hallway. In the darkness it was lit with candles and smelled vaguely of vanilla. It was almost peaceful. There was no indication of what was going on outside the walls of that school. As they passed by the gym, she could hear the tinkling of music and the sound of laughter. It was such a contradiction to the pain that she was feeling. When she finally arrived in the medical bay, she saw Weaver leaning low over Dai's body, hurried whispers rushing between the two men. Anthony gently lowered her onto one of the beds. He put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a vague smile, seemingly trying to reassure himself as much as her. "I'm going to check and see where Dr. Glass is. Try not to get into any more trouble." Without another word he turned and left the room. He was almost immediately followed by Weaver and another guy, career military with blond hair and a severe face.

Evelyn craned her neck to get a better look at what was happening. Dai appeared to be incredibly disoriented and was fighting to maintain consciousness. She saw Weaver straighten slowly, his shoulders tensed, and Dai collapsed back on the bed. Evelyn shot up in bed at that moment, anxiety running through her body. "Is Dai OK? Is he breathing?"

At that moment, Anne sprinted through the door, knocking it against the wall with a resounding bang. She was immediately followed by Tom, who made a beeline for his fallen comrade. Anne quickly pulled her hair into a messy ponytail and grabbed a pair of scissors, cutting the destroyed shirt from Dai's body. "What's his status? What's going on?"

Evelyn pushed herself to her feet and hobbled slowly towards Dai's bed. She felt another rush of dizziness and grabbed hold of a nearby table to keep herself standing. "He's got a deep abdominal laceration and he's lost a lot of blood. A lot. He's B negative." She moved down the length of the table, her hand still clutching at it to keep herself straight I tried to stitch him up best I could, but—I didn't make things worse did I?"

Anne was leaning over Dai's body, inspecting the deep cut that ran across his torso. She didn't so much as look up before she answered. "No, no you didn't. The stitches are messy and a bit uneven, but they didn't hurt. Might even have saved him. But we need blood."

"Got it!" Tector ran into the room with two bags of blood, his sleeve rolled up and a bandage wrapping the crook of his arm. He looked a bit pale. Anne grabbed the bags from him and immediately hooked them to the raised stand next to the bed, setting up an IV drip. Tector glanced back at Evelyn who was still holding herself at the table. "You said B neg, right?"

Evelyn breathed out a sigh of relief nodding while an exhausted smile crossed her face. "Yeah, thanks."

Tector tipped an imaginary hat to her. "My pleasure, ma'am."

Evelyn shook her head. "Don't think I'm quite old enough to be called ma'am just yet. I won't be over the hill for another two years." Tector laughed lightly at the poor excuse of a joke.

Evelyn could hear the light snip, snip, snip of scissors as Anne removed the sloppy stitches she had added earlier. As she worked, Tom finally looked up from his friend to behold Evelyn for the first time, his face paled even further. "Evey what's wrong? What happened to you?"

Evelyn waved her hand dismissively. "I'm fine, cap'n. Ay okay."

"She's got a concussion."

Evelyn rounded on Tector. "I. Am. Fine."

But Tector continued on. "She said that she lost consciousness. Not sure for how long though. Her pupils were uneven and she was vomiting when she got out of the car. Don't know how she managed to drive that bus all the way back here."

Evelyn sent Tector a hostile glare. "Will power. And I'm fine. There's some dizziness and light sensitivity, but no memory loss. I get to remember being blown up." She saw Tom's eyes widen. She raised her hand, rejecting the sign of concern. "I'm fine. Just need a bit of time to de-frag the hard drive. I should be fine by tomorrow."

As if on cue, Evelyn stumbled a bit, falling to her knees. She reached up for the table to bring herself to her feet, but for the third time that night, she felt strong arms lifting her up and bringing her to a bed. When Tom saw the solid mass of blood on the back of her head, he sucked in a breath. "God damn it, Evey. How do you always end up doing this to yourself?"

Evelyn let out a small snort. "Practice?"

Anne's voice called out from across the room where she was still working on Dai. "Keep her awake! I'll be there in a few minutes!"

Evelyn felt her lips quirk up in a half-smile. "Well, professor, how about a free lecture?"

Tom ran his hand down his face in agitation, but didn't express his concern any further. Instead he launched into a very detailed history of the battle of Thermopylae, complete with snarky commentary. After about fifteen minutes Anne ran over to her bedside. She was a bit breathless from all the excitement. "Dai's stable. He'll probably pull through." She turned to Tom. "Will you go get Lourdes? He needs supervision."

Tom nodded and immediately left the room. Anne pulled up a chair and a bedside table with a bowl of water and some old, stained rags. Evelyn pulled herself into the sitting position while Anne moistened the fabric. The doctor brought the rag to the back of her head and began to gently wipe away at the congealed blood. "You know, that was a brave thing you did."

Evelyn sucked in a breath when the cloth came into contact with the back of her head. "He saved my life when he dragged me away from HQ. It was only fair that I try my best to return the favor."

Anne gave her a tender look. "Still. I can't imagine what I would have done if I were put in that position."

Evelyn laughed. "I imagine you would have produced some much neater stitches."

When Anne worked her way through the blood to the actual wound, she let out a sigh of relief. Rolling the office chair she was in to face Evelyn she produced a flashlight which she shone into the young girl's eyes. "OK. It's not too bad. Head wounds always bleed a lot, and frankly your hair color made the situation look a lot worse than it actually was. Your pupils have stabilized. Other than a massive bruise on the back of your head you should be fine by tomorrow." She walked over to the shelves and retrieved some pills and gauze. The door banged open again and Evelyn glanced over to see Tom and Lourdes running in. Lourdes went straight for Dai's comatose figure and began taking his vitals. Tom made his way towards Anne, but she held up a hand to stop him. "She'll be fine, Tom. Nothing to worry about."

He let out a long breath and let his shoulders sag with relief. "Thank God for that."

Anne approached Evelyn and wordlessly gave her three pills and glass of water. Evelyn swallowed her pills and continued to sip on her water while Anne wrapped her head. After about fifteen minutes she felt her eyes beginning to droop and was overcome by an overwhelming desire to sleep. "Wha-what did you give me?"

Anne sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at her with a sad smile. "Two advil and a trazadone."

"Trazadone?"

"It's a sleeping pill. The signs of concussion are pretty much clear now. What you need is rest."

Evelyn let her head fall down on her pillow and groaned. "Why are people always drugging me while I'm injured? I've got to stop trusting people."

She slowly sank into sleep. She was only marginally aware that there were other people in the room, speaking in anxious whispers. She felt as if she was sinking into the bed. Eventually she gave into a dreamless sleep. It was the best night's sleep she had had in a long time.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

As Evelyn regained consciousness, she smacked her lips together and swallowed, trying to rid her mouth of that cottony feeling which always forms after a night without brushing your teeth. She groaned slightly and shifted in the bed. When she did, she realized that there was something in her hand. She raised her head slightly, and noticed someone else's hand in hers. Her eyes followed down the arm attached to that hand until they made their way to a head of thick, dark hair.

Evelyn smiled to herself. Hal had fallen asleep, leaning on her bed and using his right arm as a pillow. It looked as if he had been there all night. Evelyn took in her surroundings. It was completely quiet. It didn't sound as if anyone else was awake yet. She glanced towards the windows of the room and only saw the faintest amount of light peeking through the slats of the blinds. It must have been just past dawn. Evelyn slowly slid her hand out of Hal's so and not to wake him up. She slowly pushed herself up and slid into the sitting position. Apparently she had moved a little too much, because Hal suddenly threw himself up into the sitting position, startling her to no small degree.

"Wuzgoinon?" He blinked violently a few times. He shook the sleep off him, and when he finally stared into Evelyn's wide eyes his face broke out into a gigantic smile, filled with both joy and relief. "Nice hair."

Evelyn felt a smile creeping up on her own face. Her voice was hoarse from the dryness of her throat. "Yeah, I've been thinking about trying out a new look. Hospital chic."

Hal cleared his throat. "Oh, um. Hold on a sec." He ran off and reappeared with a huge bottle of water. "I just figured, you know…."

Evelyn pushed herself higher up in the bed. "Thanks, Hal." She grabbed the bottle and ripped off the cap as quickly as possible. Hal watched with a somewhat bewildered look on his face as she downed the entire 32 oz. in a matter of seconds. She brought the bottle away from her lips and wiped at them with her sleeve, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Thanks. I really needed that."

"Apparently."

The both of them simply stared at each other for a while unsure of what to say. Evelyn idly pulled at some stray threads fleeing the fabric of the blanket that covered her. And so they resorted to the platitudes again. Hal ran his hands down his face, the same way Tom did. "So how are you feeling?"

Evelyn cleared her throat. "I'm OK. The back of my head has a pretty large bump, but I'm fine. I can probably take this thing off," she said, grappling at the gauze that was still around her head. As the layers removed got closer to her head she pulled more gently scrunching up her face as she peeled the fabric that stuck to her head from the dried blood. She threw the bloodied gauze at the base of the bed and swung her legs over the side to come into contact with the cold linoleum floor. "I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday. I'm starving. You wanna get something to eat." She leaned forward and pulled on her shoes and socks. "Hal?"

When she turned back to face him she saw that he was holding the bandages, slowly running his thumb over the red stain with a dark, troubled look on his face. "Hal?"

He jerked his head up to stare at her. "Hm, what?"

Evelyn furrowed her eyebrows and gave him a puzzled half-smile. "You OK?"

He just nodded. "What's up?"

"I seriously need to eat something. Is there anything we could get out of the kitchens?"

Hal stood up and walked to a table behind him. "Anne brought something for you when you woke up. Bread and jam, nothing too difficult for your stomach. Don't worry, it's blackberry."

Evelyn pushed herself to her feet and began to walk towards him. "My favorite."

"Whoa, Evey. I don't think you should be getting up just ye—"

Evelyn ignored him and grabbed the food on the table, moving towards the door. "I have to get out of this room, Hal. I need to get some air. Come with me if want. I just—I've got to—"

Hal grabbed her free hand. "It's OK, Evey. It's OK. Let's go."

They made their way out of the school in silence and sat on the hood of car. Evelyn munched on the bread and jam while they both watched the sun rise, glinting off the metal of the broken down cars that surrounded the school. Evelyn sighed. In some weird way it reminded her of the way the sun would sparkle off the waves of the ocean when it rose in the morning.

Hal shifted uneasily next to her and cleared his throat. Evelyn glanced over at him, raising an enquiring eyebrow. "So Evey, what the hell happened out there. I mean, what happened to you and Dai?"

Evelyn nodded and gestured to indicate that she needed to swallow. When she finally forced the food down her throat, she turned to answer him. "Porter's HQ was hit by some ships. I was knocked out and Dai saved me with the power of imagination."

Hal made a face. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, I came to in the back of a Scooby Doo van that had been tricked out with a shag carpet and a disco ball with a Disney princess towel duct taped around my head. It was quite the disorienting experience."

Hal laughed a bit, but the laugh was hollow. "Yeah, I can imagine it was." He chewed on his lower lip, as if trying to decide whether or not to say something. "But that's not what I meant, Evey. I woke up yesterday and you were gone. It's like you evaporated or something. I mean, why did you go?"

Evelyn shrugged. "They needed two people, I volunteered to be the second."

Hal nodded, clearly not satisfied with her answer. Evelyn drummed her fingers on her thigh, quietly humming 'Hey Jude'. Hal pushed himself off the car and began to pace in an agitated manner, scratching the back of his neck. The silence was becoming too uncomfortable for Evelyn.

"Soooooooooo. How are the preparations for the raid going? We all set with ammo and demolitions and stuff?"

At that Hal froze. He turned to her with a look of anger marring his features. Evelyn stopped tapping her fingers. "Hal?"

His hand was covering his mouth and his eyes were wide. He brought his hands to his head and pulled at his hair. "FUCK! What the fuck is _wrong_ with you, Evey?"

Evelyn's mouth dropped at his outburst. "Hal, wh—"

But Hal was on a roll and there was no stopping him. His eyes were wild and his hands were waving frantically. "You don't have a frigging off switch! You just run face first into trouble again and again. You just almost got yourself killed for like the fourth time this month. And for what? God! You say you don't have a death wish but—" He turned his back to her and began muttering to himself. "I tried to tell him you were too friggin' reckless and what does he do? He throws you out to the frontlines—"

Evelyn felt her spine stiffen at those words. She hadn't been meant to hear them, but she had always had exceptional auditory acuity. She hopped off the car and strode angrily towards Hal, shoving him hard.

It was you! You went to Weaver about me. How could—"

Hal rounded on her, his face inches from hers, but he was still yelling at the top of his lungs. Pretty soon they'd wake up the rest of the 2nd Mass. "How could I what, Evey? How could I care about you? How could I not want you to get yourself blown up? But you've gone and done that now, haven't you!"

"I'm not your fucking puppet, Hal!"

Hal shrugged his shoulders. "So I should what, just let you run off and kill yourself, volunteering for every single goddamn mission so someone else won't have to. What exactly is it that makes your life worth so much less than everyone else's? And don't tell me it's because nobody needs you. Max needs you. Amy needs you. Ben needs you. For fuck's sake, Evey—" Hal looked at the sky and looked at the sky and bounced nervously on his heels. When he lowered his gaze back to hers there was tenderness in those brown eyes "—Evey, I need you. I do, I need you. So what is it?"

Evelyn blinked away the tears that formed in her eyes. She bit her lip and looked at the ground. Hal leaned down searching out her eyes, but she avoided his gaze. She could feel the frustration rolling off him in waves.

"DAMNIT, EVEY! WHAT THE HELL IS IT!"

Evelyn snapped. In that moment rage bubbled inside of her and forced out the words that she had kept inside for so long. "BECAUSE I'M ALREADY DEAD!"

Evelyn cringed at her own words. There it was. She had said it. Penny in the air, penny drops.

Hal had frozen, his mouth open and poised to shout something else at her. He took two steps back from her, stumbling as if someone had shoved him hard. He shook his head in denial. "In this world we're all already dead, Evey. I mean, we could die any second."

Evelyn looked him straight in the eye. Her voice came out as a whisper, but it echoed like a scream. "That's not what I meant, Hal."

"Well then wh—"

"Ask me how I know Maggie."

Hal furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "You said you met in church. Which is weird, but what does that have to do with anything."

Evelyn sighed. "That was a deflection, Hal. That's _where_ we met. It's not _how_ we met."

Her heart broke as she saw the realization slowly dawn on his face. "No. No, Evey, just...no. Stop talking."

Evelyn took a few steps forward. It was her turn to seek out his eyes, which he was just as unwilling to give as she had been not moments ago. "I found out when I was thirteen. It's called pilocytic astrocytoma. It's more common in kids. It kind of grows around the brainstem and cerebellum. Usually they can be removed but mine was…..inconveniently placed. They did chemo and removed as much as they could, but some was still there—"

Hal was backing away from her slowly biting his cheek and shaking his head violently, both hands tearing at his hair. It was like he was trying to will himself into unhearing what she was saying. "No. You're fine…y-you have a concussion. You're just confused I—"

Evelyn walked up to him and grabbed his face, trying to make him look at her, but he ripped her hands away from him. "A couple of months before the attack we found out it turned malignant. They resected it again, but it'll keep growing and I don't have a neurosurgeon hiding in the pocket of my other pair of pants, so—"

"Shut up, Evey. Just shut up."

Evelyn was close to yelling now. "Come on, Hal! It makes sense, doesn't it! I mean, how do I know Maggie so freaking well? How did I come up with that thing with the harnesses, treating them like tumors? I'm not a super-genius, Hal, I just knew what the fuck I was talking about! And my mom? How do you think she sold me out to the skitters so bloody easily? I've got five years left, tops! Maybe two of them will be bearable before the headaches, and the dizziness, and the vomiting, and the—"

She was cut off as Hal strode forwards and grabbed the back of her neck and pulling her lips to meet his. Evelyn was still for a moment, not believing was happening. Soon enough, though, she started to kiss him back. In that moment everything else fell away. In that moment there were no monsters, no aliens, there was no death. In that moment she was just an eighteen-year-old girl kissing the boy she had been a little bit in love with since she was nine.

Hal cupped her cheeks, softly running his thumbs over the slightly scabbed skin as their lips moved together. She removed his hands from her face as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down and deepening the kiss. Hal's arms moved down to her waist, encircling it and pulling her closer in. He lifted her up slightly, her toes skimming the ground. Evelyn gasped out a breath and played with the hair at the nape of his neck. He placed her back down on ground and pulled away for a moment, panting out heavy breaths and studying her face searchingly. His eyes bore into hers as if he was trying to crawl inside her mind, to understand her completely. He embedded his hands in her hair and brought her in for another kiss, slowly walking her backwards until she was up against the brick wall of the school.

It was the pain of the brick hitting that raised bruise that finally brought Evelyn back to her sensed. She tried to shake her head, to get him to stop, but his hands were holding her in place. Eventually she managed to get her hands to a position on his chest where there was enough leverage to push him off her. Hal stumbled backwards a few steps, looking hurt and confused.

"Evey, why—"

She let out a sigh that almost sounded like a sob and buried her face in her hands. "No. I can't do this, Hal. Shit. This is why I didn't tell anyone in the first place. I don't want your pity, I'm not a charity case."

"Pity? Evey, what are you—I don't—"

He reached out to grab her hand, but she yanked it away violently. Her voice was cracking with the tears that were threatening to spill over. "And I refuse to be some replacement for Karen. I just—I can't."

She walked back into the school, half running, half walking to the music room. When she finally made it, she quietly shut the door and leaned against it, sliding down to the floor. She shook with silent sobs. Her second kiss, and it tasted like despair.

**So, yeah. There it is. It's like 3am now. I just couldn't make myself stop writing and go to sleep. So please review. Seriously. I've been working towards this specific moment for over a month now, and I want to know what you think.**


	23. Before and After

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'Falling Skies' and any familiar dialogue I transcribed from my DVD Box Set. Unfortunately I don't own it.**

**Pictures of my OCs are on my profile. Copy the links and delete the spaces.**

**I made a soundtrack for the story which is also on my profile as another story.**

Chapter 23 – Before and After

It was only after Evelyn woke up for the second time that morning that she realized that she was even capable of sleeping. With all of the fear, the pain, the despair, with all of the thoughts swarming around her head like locusts, she had felt as if she would never be able to sleep again, that death would be the only thing that could quiet those voices. But then it occurred to her that she had died in a way. Her life after those few restless hours of sleep would be nothing like that before. And that sleep had left her exhausted. Gone were the days of light-hearted banter. Gone were the laughs and the smiles. From that moment forward, she had a giant expiration date stamped on her forehead: "use by this date or will spoil." Her heartbeat was no longer an indication of life, it was the tic-tic-tic of a clock as it counted down to zero.

As Evelyn blinked into consciousness, she could hear the sound of metal scraping metal. She opened her eyes, squinting into the oncoming rays of sun, until her gaze found its object. Maggie was sitting at the table, as she so often did, disassembling and reassembling her automatic rifle. Maggie had always been a very physical person. She had always said that _feeling_ reminded her that she was alive, that she hadn't died while on that table with that metal cutting holes in her head. A while ago it had been the drugs that reminded her how to be alive. Evelyn's theory of it all was that it had been the needles that drew her in. When you had been in the hospital as much as she and Maggie had, needles became synonymous with cutting, pain, and near-death experiences. Needles made you numb. But that first time Maggie had shot up with heroin, she didn't become numb. The numbness stopped. And so she did it again. And again. And again. She had almost died from all that living. After the attack, after prison, after that poor baby she couldn't bring herself to name, she was numb again, but this was a different kind of numb. It was a numbness that arose from being confronted with the ruinous consequences of your own actions. And now Maggie had found a new way to feel: redemption. The skitters gave her that redemption, they gave her something to fight against. The metallic scraping noise continued. It was the sound of Maggie breathing.

Evelyn slowly became aware of her surroundings. She was on one of the two cots she and Maggie had set up in the music room, wrapped tightly in a ratty quilt. It was almost as if she had been swaddled. Earlier that morning Maggie had woken to find Evelyn still leaning against the door, crying her eyes out. The older girl had wordlessly pulled her into a tight embrace and held her there while the unending tears spilled onto her shoulder, ruining the leather of the jacket she wore. Once Evelyn had stopped shaking, Maggie had led her to the cot and put her to sleep as if she was a small child. Evelyn's last thoughts before closing her eyes were that Maggie would have been a great mother, if given the opportunity. Evelyn had never told her friend, but she had named her son. Ethan. It meant 'strong'. It would suit a kid of hers.

Evelyn tried to get out of the cot, but the blanket trapped her feet in a swirling vortex of fabric. She squealed and belly flopped on the floor, saying a silent thank you that she didn't land and smack her head on the floor. She had had enough concussions for a lifetime. She thrashed around like a fish caught in a net, trying to escape but only managing to tie the knots tighter. What with all the violent flapping noise created by the blankets as she struggled against them, she didn't realize that the metallic scraping had stopped. Evelyn slowly turned around to Maggie staring at her with an amused and slightly superior smirk on her face. "Good morning, you idiot." That had been their greeting for the past four years. Ever since they shared that hospital room when she was fourteen and Maggie was sixteen.

"Mmph." Groaning, she groaned rolled over and found the older girl leaning over her. Maggie stretched out hand and grabbed hold of the blankets, yanking at them until Evelyn rolled out onto the floor, liberated.

Evelyn thought back to that first time they met. She was about six months out of her first surgery. They had chopped out most of that thing growing in her head, but the bit that was left kept giving her headaches, kept making her dizzy. So it was time for chemo. Her parents were fighting with the doctors, yelling at them as if they were on the phone disputing credit card charges. Evelyn had needed to get the hell out of that room, so she snuck into the only room nobody ever really went in hospitals: the chapel. Maybe it was because religion and science didn't mix all that well. Maybe it was because in hospitals people wanted to spend time with their family members. But her family wasn't all that keen on spending 'quality time' together.

Even at that age, Evelyn had always loved churches. Not for the religion or anything like that, but for the stained glass, for the colors. She had curled up in a ball on the front pew, watching the glass change shades as the sun was covered by clouds. She was singing to herself. 'Hey Jude'. It was her favorite. Just as she reached the refrain, there was a gigantic bang as someone kicked the doors open.

At that point Evelyn had fallen to the floor with a light thump. She curled her fingers over the top of the pew and peaked over the ledge. There was a crazy blond girl storming around, kicking at inanimate objects. She threw her head back and started yelling at the ceiling. "Seriously! Are you kidding me? Brain tumors? Are you fucking kidding me?" The girl kicked the pew next to her hard and cursed upon impact. She collapsed on the nearest horizontal surface and grabbed her foot, still muttering a string of curses.

Fourteen-year-old Evelyn took that opportunity to pop out of her hiding place. "Bad day?"

The blond glanced up, shooting her a death glare. "Fuck off."

Evelyn had then stood up fully. "Well, honestly, that's rather rude." Young Evelyn plopped down next to the tense, hostile figure and began humming.

"Would you please shut the fuck up? I'm trying to have a moment with my goddamn maker here."

Evelyn folded her arms and sank down in her seat. "I don't think you're making a very good impression. Though you do get points for irony with the whole 'goddamn maker' thing." The two of them had sat there for a while in silence, stealing sidelong glances at each other and refusing to leave. Evelyn cleared her throat. "You know…there are better ways to cope than doing further bodily harm to yourself. I mean, we are in a hospital so you're conveniently placed if anything was to go wrong but…still."

The anonymous blond had given her an incredulous and more than slight look. "What the fuck would a pipsqueak like you know about it?"

"I know that the five stages of grief is complete bullshit."

"Is that so?"

Evelyn nodded. "Yup. There are only two. You get pissed and then you accept. There's no point denying it. There's no point bargaining. And if you get all depressed you're only wasting the limited time you have left. Anger and acceptance is the way to go. By my estimate you're in stage one." The look she had received in response was both confused and questioning. Evelyn then cracked her not-yet-patented knowing smile. "Oh, they already cut into my head once. I liked it so much the first time I decided to come back for more."

The blond blew out a long breath. "Well, shit." She stuck out a hand. "I'm Maggie."

Evelyn then took it and gave it a single, firm shake. "Nice to meet you Mags. I'm Evelyn."

"You aren't one of those 'Jesus is my savior people' are you?"

At that Evelyn snorted. "I haven't tried to convert you yet, have I? Even with all that blaspheming? Nope. Morphine is my savior."

And that had been that. The two of them terrorized the nurses until they shared a room. They bonded over lime jello and chemotherapy. They broke into all the staff lockers until they found an electric razor. They shaved each other's heads (Julia had been pissed at that one).

Then Maggie had gotten better. And that was the worst thing to happen to her. She suddenly had time and was confronted with one of the most terrifying questions in existence: what now? And Maggie hadn't made the best choices. But after everything they had gone through together, it didn't make any fucking difference. When Evelyn was fifteen she rode her bike to the courthouse so she could be there for Maggie's trial. When she was sixteen she boosted the keys to her father's car every other week so she could visit her in prison. She had held Maggie's hand while it shook violently from those symptoms of withdrawal. She had kept a copy of the ultrasound tucked in her copy of 'The Count of Monte Cristo'. They had survived together. For now at least.

Jolting her mind back into the present, Evelyn stayed there, lying on the floor. Maggie was still standing there, hovering over her. "You gonna get up, chickadee?"

"No."

"OK, then." Maggie got down on the floor next to Evelyn, placing her hands under her head. The two of them used to do that all the time during those weeks they spent in the hospital. They would get so tired of all the monitors, the beeping sounds, the people walking around and scribbling on charts, those lumpy beds with the overly starched sheets that they would run away for a bit. They would go to that room nobody else ever visited, lie on the floor, and stare at the ceiling. Sometimes they would talk and sometimes they wouldn't. Either way, everything went away for a few minutes. Maggie turned her head slightly towards Evelyn, but didn't make eye contact. That was one of the rules. "You really had me scared for a second there."

Evelyn sighed. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Just…don't make a habit of it."

Evelyn snorted. "OK, Mags. I promise not to make a habit out of getting blown up. It'll be a real sacrifice, but you mean that much to me. Cross my heart and hope to die. Oh, wait—"

Maggie started laughing, and pretty soon Evelyn joined in. If you were as hyper-aware of your own mortality as they were, death had to become as funny as it was tragic. Otherwise you would lose your mind. Maggie poked Evelyn in the side with her elbow. "So you want to let me know what that sob-fest earlier was about."

"It's my time of the month. Stop making things awkward."

Maggie let the silence hang there for a moment before continuing with her prodding. "Does it have anything to do with Hal?"

Evelyn felt her body tense up. Great. Way to keep cool. "No?" Evelyn had intended for the answer to come out as strong and definitive, but instead it sounded like a question.

Maggie pushed herself up on her elbows. "Well, I find that interesting."

Evelyn followed her example, bringing them eye-to-eye. "What do you mean by that, Mags?"

"Only that he's kind of been sitting outside that door for the past three hours. I told him to fuck off and let you sleep, but he seemed quite insistent. He was kind of rude about it too."

Evelyn pulled herself up into the seated position and curled up into a tight ball, as if burying her face in her arms would somehow block out the shitstorm that had become her life. "Fucking hell." Evelyn glanced up and saw an enquiring look cross Maggie's face. Evelyn sighed heavily. Confession time. "I may or may not have let my situation slip. I kind of sort of told him everything. He was yelling at me for being reckless and I….yelled back."

Maggie nodded in understanding. "Then what happened?"

Evelyn scrunched her face, both reveling in what happened and trying to forget it. "He kissed me. And I—I kissed him back. And in that moment it was incredible, but I've never been that good at living in the present, you know that. I mean, why did he wait till that moment? Till he knew that my brainbox was broken? I don't need his pity, and I don't want it. You remember what it was like. When people know, every kind word or gesture is suspect. Poor little cancer girl, best be nice to her before she pops off, regardless of whether or not you actually like her." Evelyn kneaded her forehead with her fist. "Fuck. That's why I didn't want anyone to know. I mean, I could trust you and Max with it because you're both as scary and damaged as I am. You two get it, but Hal is just so unnervingly normal. Even with this bullshit, with everything that's happened, he's just so bloody well-adjusted. And it's the well-adjusted ones who treat you differently. I've wanted him to kiss me for so long. Why did it have to be then? Now everything is just….tainted."

Evelyn dropped her head back down to her knees and Maggie wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "If you want to avoid him, you can just stay in here for like an hour or so. We've got one last scout mission before the attack tomorrow and Hal and I are on point." Evelyn opened her mouth to ask a question, but Maggie cut her off, predicting what she was about to say. "Weaver said that you're taking the day to recover before the raid tomorrow. His exact words were 'if that idiot girl makes one move to leave, you will lock her in the brig', or something to that effect. You've developed quite the reputation for stupidity."

Evelyn snorted. "I prefer to think of it as heroism. But then again the two terms are usually synonymous, aren't they?"

Maggie nodded absently. "So what are you going to do about Captain America out there?"

Evelyn pulled herself up to her feet. "There's no point in avoiding him. He always was a persistent little bugger. If it's not today, it'll be the day after that. Might as well rip off the band-aid and let the wound breath. How else is it supposed to scab over and heal?" Evelyn made her way over to the exit, but paused at the doorframe. "Hey, Mags? Take care of him today. He's more of an idiot than he realizes." Then she quietly cracked the door open and slipped out of the room. She heard Maggie pick up her gun and continue that process of disassembly and re-assembly all over again.

Evelyn silently closed the door behind her and turned to see a figure directly opposite her. Hal sat there with his head leaning back against the wall and a rifle lying across his lap. Evelyn couldn't help but smile a bit when she heard the soft snores. It would be so easy to just walk by and leave him there asleep, to run off and not have to confront the giant prehistoric mastodon in the room, but Evelyn knew where that kind of avoidance led. It led to bitterness and resentment, and she didn't want that with Hal. However dysfunctional their relationship became, she did not want him to resent her, and she would never be able to resent him. So she sat down next to him, leaning against that same wall and watching him sleep for a bit. "YOU'RE DROOLING!"

Her loud exclamation not only startled Hal awake, but caused him to fall over, his back hitting the floor. "Jesus! What the hell was—"

When he realized that it was her sitting next to her, he quickly straightened up, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. Evelyn found herself laughing at how flustered he was. He let out a single laugh as well. "That was not cool, Evey. Seriously not cool."

"Since when have I ever been cool, Hal?"

Hal gave her an appraising look that was slightly tinged with disbelief and stared her straight in the eye. "Since always."

Evelyn blinked a few times, made uncomfortable by his sincerity. Hal must of sensed it because he made a face and tacked on a little levity. "I mean that 'My Little Pony' lunchbox of yours was _way_ ahead of the curve."

Evelyn laughed a bit, but eventually it faded away. They just sat there in the hallway staring at each other for a few moments. Evelyn offered up a slight, awkward smile. Hal tried to return it, but it didn't reach his eyes. It was broken. A dark shadow passed over his face and he broke eye contact, opting to stare at the ceiling instead. He banged the back of his head into the wall behind him and ran his hands through his hair. The frustration was palpable. "Shit, Evey. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm sorry I pushed you like that. I—I thought you had some ridiculous idea of becoming a superhero or some fucking savior to the 2nd Mass or something. That you were putting your life on the line to _prove_ something to me— and to everyone else too. That somehow your pride was behind it all." He looked down at her with grief covering his face. "I guess that makes me a bit of an asshole, doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes it does," Evelyn deadpanned.

Hal stared at her a few moments before he started laughing. He seemed to be trying to make himself stop, but was rather unsuccessful. When he finally got control of himself, he shot her a broken smile. "How do you always manage to do that? I'm horrible to you, first in high school and now with this, and you manage to make a joke out of it. To make me laugh and feel better. Why do you even bother?"

Evelyn shook her head. "You weren't horrible to me, Hal. You didn't know. You were worried. If the roles were reversed, I probably would have done the same."

"You wouldn't of—" Hal went quiet all of the sudden as Maggie yanked open the door to the music room. It wasn't until she gave them a curt nod and walked off down the hallway that he resumed. "You wouldn't have kissed me like that though. I shouldn't have done that."

Evelyn nudged his shoulder and studiously avoided his gaze. "As I recall, you didn't make me kiss you back. Before I shoved you, that is." Evelyn bit her lip and glanced up at him nervously. He looked as if he was trying to read her thoughts, like he wanted to say something to her, and she could guess what it was. Evelyn decided to be proactive and avoid getting her hopes up for the future. "Look, Hal, we can just forget about that kiss if you want, OK? I'm not going to hold you to it, I wouldn't presume to do that. I had just dropped a pretty huge information bomb on you and you've still got Karen—"

Hal nodded. "Right, Karen." Evelyn furrowed her eyebrows. For some reason he sounded almost bitter.

She cleared her throat uncomfortably and continued. "Yeah, Karen. And it's not like you need a girlfriend with an expiration date," she said laughing uncomfortably. "Um, look, I shouldn't have run away from you. I owed you some sort of explanation after unloading on you like that. It was unfair of me."

Hal shook his head in disbelief. "Goddamnit Evey, do you ever stop thinking of other people's feelings? I mean, you have fucking _cancer_ and you're here trying to comfort me. That's….not normal. How can you be worrying about me right now?"

Evelyn just shrugged. "Because at this point it affects you more than it affects me." Hal looked at her like she was completely crazy. "I'm serious, Hal. My situation may be news to you, but it's not to me. I've been living with it for over four years now.

"You're not afraid of dying?"

Evelyn considered the question for a moment before answering. "I certainly don't want to die. I mean, who would? But at this point I'm not afraid of it any more. The way I see it, I should've died a long time ago, so all this—" she waved her hands around for emphasis "—it's gravy. It's that chocolate-y soup that you find in the bowl once you finish your sundae. You've used it all up, but there's that last little bit left over to enjoy."

"So I'm the chocolate ice cream soup?"

Evelyn nodded. "If you want to stick with that rather pathetic metaphor, yes you are. And anyway, how many of us here are going to be able to survive for two more years? There are alien robot blowing stuff up right and left. If you think about it I've got the same survival chances as most everyone else here."

I don't like that point, but it's fair." Hal tapped his boot on the floor. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Can I answer your question with a question?"

"Sure."

Evelyn took a deep breath. "If you were to jump off a building, or fall off or whatever, would you want to be face down or face up?"

Hal didn't question her or give her a funny look, he just considered his answer. "Face down. Definitely face down. I'd want to know the exact second I was going to hit the ground. Hit it head on."

Evelyn smiled. "That's what I figured you'd say. The thing is, Hal, I'm already falling face down. I can see the ground coming at me, and it sucks. God, it really, really sucks. I can see everything I'll never be able to accomplish, everything I'll never get to have. If I get hit by a bullet on the way down, it really doesn't make much of a difference to me either way because I'm still set on a crash course with the pavement. I'd give anything to be falling face up. And while nobody else knows about me or talks about me or treats me like a fragile doll that could break at any second, I can at least pretend. When people know they treat you differently and I hate it. I'm the same person that I was yesterday. I still think the same way, I still act the same way. I'm still a gigantic pain in the ass, but nobody _ever_ calls me out on it after the find out."

Hal punched her shoulder lightly. "I promise you, Evey, no matter what, I will always be there to tell you you're a pain in the ass."

Evelyn smiled at him and he smiled back. "I appreciate that. I really do."

Hal let out a long breath. "Can I ask you a seriously rude question?"

"Always."

"What's—what's it like having someone cut into your brain?" Hal's voice was really hesitant and laced with concern, but Evelyn knew what he was really after. Brain surgery was two things: terrifying and really cool. Evelyn decided to latch on to the latter.

"Oh my God, it's like the weirdest experience of all time. They keep you awake, and you can kind of feel them cutting through the skull, but there's no feeling in your brain so you have no idea what's going on back there. I got one of the nurses to take a Polaroid of it."

Hal laughed. "You did not."

Evelyn nodded fervently. "Oh yes I did. I used it as a bookmark. It kind of looked like raw chicken, actually. The resolution wasn't all that great."

Hal continued to laugh for a while. Until, that is, he realized what he was laughing at. He blinked with realization and then it just kind of died on his lips. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it like he was never going to be able to again. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing at that. It's—"

But Evelyn cut him off. "If a bear and a shark got into a fight, who would win?"

He gave her a smile of understanding. "That's a ridiculous question, Evey. Bears are on dry land and sharks are in water. And sharks are salt water anyway. How many bears do you know of that go to the beach?"

"Polar bears swim in the ocean."

Hal rolled his eyes. "That's at the north pole, idiot. There are no sharks up there. It's too cold."

They continued to bicker like that until Hal had to leave for the scouting mission. Evelyn let out a small sigh of relief. They were back to normal. Or at least as close to normal as you could get in this messed up world.

**Thanks again to my readers for supporting me through this effort. You guys are the best!**

**REVIEWS KILL SKITTERS AND CAUSE CATASTROPHIC FAILURES IN THE MECH MACHINERY! Therefore all the characters would be grateful if you did!**


	24. What The Hell Is Going On?

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'Falling Skies' and any familiar dialogue I transcribed from my DVD Box Set. Unfortunately I don't own it.**

**Pictures of my OCs are on my profile. Copy the links and delete the spaces.**

**I made a soundtrack for the story which is also on my profile as another story. **

Chapter 24 – What The Hell Is Going On?

Evelyn may have been barred from going out on the sentry mission, but she sure as hell wasn't just going to sit around and wait for the attack to roll around. There was so much bustling activity around the camp, staying still would be damn near intolerable. So when Hal went to touch base with his father before the sentry mission, she went where she was needed. And what the 2nd Mass needed right now was ammo that would work. So she headed to the workshop.

When Evelyn arrived she saw that they had already set up a fairly good assembly line. There was a station for melting down the mech metal, a station for pouring the slugs into their molds, a station for setting the slugs on their shells, and a station for polishing. The room was filled with the sounds of hissing molten metal and the clanking of parts being assembled. She looked through the steam and the dust and the dirt and saw Max and Pope, eagerly, and angrily, discussing the plans for the attack. The two men definitely did not get along, and there was a definite enmity that characterized their relationship, but they worked well together. They were similar in more ways than one. They shared a certain 'get-it-done' attitude that was crucial in wartime. And they both had a snarky attitude, though one was miles less hostile than the other.

Evelyn couldn't help but feel grateful to Pope, not that she would ever tell him that. But he had given them a viable way to take down the skitters, and he had given Max purpose. These days he really was happy, in spite of being confined to that chair. He had reconstructed the family that had slipped through his fingers. But even with all he had going for him, it wasn't enough because deep down he was still a soldier, and a soldier couldn't be satisfied sitting on the sidelines when there is something to fight. Especially when the survival of the human race was contingent upon grinding that something into dust.

Evelyn leaned on the doorframe and took in the sight before her, trying to deconstruct the process before jumping in and potentially throwing a monkey wrench into the works. After a few moments, Max caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. He immediately turned and started wheeling towards her, cutting off Pope mid-sentence, something the middle-aged grease bucket clearly wasn't happy with.

"Hey, legless, why don't you motor your ass back over here so we can get our goddamn work done!" When he was ignored Pope simply threw his hands in the air in frustration and continued with his work.

Max continued on his way to Evelyn. She offered up a small smile which he did not return. Instead his face bore a stern, stoic frown that appeared as if it had been carved out of granite or marble or some other particularly solid material. Evelyn felt her smile falter, especially when she realized that he was not slowing down. That realization came a little too late and the front of Max's chair collided with her shins, knocking her to the ground. She heard some laughing in the background, and she knew without looking that it had come from Pope. Even his laugh sounded dirty.

"What the hell, Max! What's your problem?"

Max glowered down at her from his chair. "My problem? What's MY problem?"

Evelyn scrambled back up to her feet and out into the hallway, rubbing at the spot which she was certain would soon bear a nasty bruise. "Yes, Max. What the fuck is your problem?"

Max let out an angry scoff. "Well, _Evelyn_, my bloody problem is that you disappear into the night without so much as goodbye and then show up again _hours_ late driving the fucking mystery mobile with a concussion so bad that your brains might as well have been the scrambled eggs I ate for breakfast yesterday morning! My problem is that you then also disappear from the hospital without telling Anne or Lourdes or anybody! My problem is that I have to learn your alive from that idiot kid with the black hair who smiles too much!"

Evelyn furrowed her eyebrows. "…Hal?"

"Yeah, I really don't care what his name is. The point is, that I'm really not the one with the fucking problem in this scenario, am I? It's you and your kamikaze Xena warrior princess complex. I used to go out there with you, Lyn. I used to be in the goddamn loop. Just 'cause I'm stuck in this goddamn chair doesn't mean you stopped taking a bit of me out there with you. And I want it back, Lyn. You gotta bring that piece of me back with you. I mean, shit! You don't tell me, you don't tell Maggie, you don't tell that Hal guy who seemed to be having a fucking embolism, you don't even leave a fucking note! And we're supposed to what, cross our fingers and hope you'll show up again? You know, for someone's who's so smart you're a real fucking idiot."

Evelyn brought her fist to her forehead. Max was right. Maggie and Hal had been right too. She was an idiot. A naïve and yet overly mature emotionally constipated idiot. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Max." But Max was still seething. She wasn't sure he had even registered her apology. "What do you want from me, Max?"

"What do I want? What I want, _Evelyn_, is for you to stop being so goddamn selfless and so goddamn selfish!"

Evelyn blinked and tilted her head to the side. "I don't think y—"

"Oh, you can be both! Because if you are anything, it's a walking contradiction! But right now I'm pissed at you so I'm going to stick with selfish—"

Evelyn nodded. "You're right and I'm sorry."

But Max wasn't listening. "—and what I want from you right now is a bloody apology."

"I'M SORRY! I was wrong. I am apologizing. That's what I've been trying to do. Since last month. You know, when you started yelling at me." Evelyn was left breathing heavily, silence ringing in her ears after being berated for so long.

Max blinked a few times and gave a single, curt nod. "OK, then."

Evelyn pursed her lips and shrugged her shoulders. "So, we good?"

Max spun around in his chair and made his way back to the door. "Yeah, whatever." He rolled back into the room where everyone was working, Evelyn following close behind.

Pope looked up at Evelyn from the desk where he was seated, smirking at Evelyn as she crossed the threshold. "OK, kids, mom and dad are done fighting now! Time to get back to your homework or no dessert tonight!"

Evelyn walked wordlessly up to the seat across from him and as she plopped in the seat she brought the toe of her boot in contact with his man-parts with no insignificant force. When he grunted and cursed in pain, she looked at him with wide-eyed innocence. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you? I can be such a klutz sometimes."

Pope just laughed at her with narrowed eyes. "No problem, darling. There's more than enough left down there even after your little castration attempt."

Evelyn's lip curled in disgust. "Look, just tell me what you need done."

Pope leered at her. "Well, sweetcheeks—"

Evelyn kicked him under the table again, a little harder this time, eliciting another involuntary grunt of pain. "In the context of preparing for the attack tomorrow, what precise facet of your operation needs to be speeded up? Where do you need an extra hand? And so help me God if you make another lewd comment, or even a lewd expression for that matter I will ensure that you will lose all feeling in your nether-regions and your baby-making accessories will be rendered non-functional. These are steel-toed boots and I can kick a hell of a lot harder than that."

Pope pushed himself up from the counter. "All right, all right. No need to get all hostile. You and Maggie, geeze the sync-up theory really is true."

"And clearly you have no strong attachment to your manhood."

At that point Max rolled up. "Pope, I might be in this chair but I can still sure as hell kick your ass to kingdom come, so back the fuck off."

Pope threw up his hands. "I was just being friendly."

Evelyn snorted. "Yeah, the kind of friendly that ends with a restraining order."

Max turned to Evelyn. "Do you think you could work the molding station? The materials are a bit dangerous, but—"

Evelyn pulled her hair up, wrapping it into a tight bun. "Yeah, I can handle it. I've used this kind of equipment before. I'm pretty familiar with it. What's the melting point of the metal?"

Pope leaned on the desk and gave her a strange look. "What did you do, cook meth or some shit like that? How are you familiar with this stuff?"

"Seriously? Meth? Do I have an involuntary twitch and bad teeth? No, wait, that's you. I took organic chemistry, you buffoon."

Pope rolled his eyes and wandered off. "So princess got herself some fancy college learning. Big fucking surprise."

Max took her through the steps of melting the metal, pouring it, and cooling it until the slugs came out whole. It was a fairly simple, repetitive process, but it took Evelyn's mind off of all the drama of that morning. At some point Matt came in, stopping next to her only long enough for her to ruffle his hair and for him to chastise her for doing so before running off to polish the byproducts of their little assembly line. She stayed over that burner for a long time, the heat washing over her skin and sweat dripping off her brow. Every once in a while a drop would fall in that molten metal and it would let off a loud hissing noise, the water evaporating immediately on contact. Evelyn stared at the swirling pool of silver in front of her. It was beautiful, casting of broken reflections of her face. Every once in a while she would catch sight of the red of her hair or the blur of her eyes mixed in with the shimmering silver. It was a shame that this beautiful thing had to be destroyed to produce a weapon. But, for the resistance, the things that were the most precious were not the beautiful things, they were the instruments of destruction. Destroy to live. That was the world they lived in.

They were churning out bullets at a reasonably fast pace, but not fast enough. You can't go to war without weapons, and they needed lots of weapons. Pope paraded around the room like the leader of his own little fiefdom. A pig in muck, which wasn't even a metaphor in his case. "That's it! Keep moving. Imagine those mechs roaring in on you! How much fun you're gonna have shooting them down with their own toys."

He passed by Evelyn's station, looking at the work she was doing. Evelyn, careful not to spill the ladle of molten mech metal she was holding, glanced back at him. "You sure you weren't a life coach back in the real world? All this 'visualize your future' crap makes you sound like Tony Robbins. Next you're going to tell us to walk over hot coals so we can 'open our minds' or something like that."

Pope leaned on the counted and let a harsh smirk cross his face. "You know, I really am going to miss all that snark when your clock ticks down to zero."

Evelyn felt her hands clench around the ladle, trying her hardest not to let her surprise cause her to spill the valuable contents. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

Pope snorted. "I think you know exactly what I mean, Hot Lips—" his smirk grew wider "—you know, it occurs to me that that nickname is a lot more topical now. You and the big little Mason make quite the fetching pair. Though you do tend to fight far too early in the morning and far to close to my window for my personal enjoyment."

Evelyn finished pouring the mold of slugs and slammed the ladle on the counter, turning to face the smarmy jackass. "If there's something you want to say to me, Pope, then just open that gaping pie-hole of yours and say it. You want to crack a joke, laugh a bit, and dance on my grave before it's been dug then go ahead, knock yourself out, but leave the Masons out of it. I'd ask for your discretion, but you obviously don't have any, so I'm just going to ask that you not be a complete dick. Respect my dying wishes or something like that."

Pope actually seemed a bit shaken by that hushed outburst. "Don't worry Red, I'll keep your secret a secret." He straightened, and his face resumed its usual hostile, smug expression. "Besides, if I blabbed everyone would get all teary and weepy and shit. The entire situation would just be incredibly annoying. This is war, not an episode of Oprah." And with that Pope turned and left her alone, wandering off to harass someone else. Ah, he had picked Tony. She glanced back after him and she saw that his head was bowed and he was scratching at the back of his neck. Evelyn smiled. That was probably the closest she would get to a genuine expression of regret on his part.

Evelyn was about to turn back to her work, but then she saw Pope wander over to Matt. That caught her attention. Max had mentioned that Pope was actually good with Matt, but that was something she would have to judge for herself. For the time being, she decided to maintain her distance but keep a close eye. "No, no, no, kid, look, you don't need to polish it to a shine like that. When it comes to mech ammo it's quantity, not quality." He put a steadying hand on the table, still not totally stable after that leg wound, and leaned slightly in towards Matt. "Sure your old man was talking about me?"

Matt looked up at the man, still working n polishing the shells. "He said, 'Stay away from Pope.'"

"Great. So suddenly I'm the beneficiary of some pre-adolescent rebellious streak."

Evelyn watched as Matt dropped his head low, furiously rubbing at the metal casings as if to convince himself that he was accomplishing something of worth to the 2nd Mass. "He keeps treating me like this like this little kid, like I can't do anything. But I want to help, too. Besides, I am staying away from you, just not that far."

At that Evelyn couldn't help but snort. Matt was one precocious little kid. Unfortunately the snort caught Pope's attention and he sent her a withering look from over his shoulder. She just shrugged back in response. Pope turned back to Matt, chuckling darkly. "You sound like one of my attorneys. Ah. I guess…What's the big deal? I mean…it's not like your pops is gonna do anything to the little prince of the 2nd Mass."

At that Matt slammed down one of the 50 cal bullets. "I'm not a prince!"

Pope looked down at him for a moment. Evelyn could feel the contempt rolling off of him from her post ten feet away. "You're not the only one. There's two other little princelets. And somehow princess over there got adopted into your little clan," he said jerking his thumb in Evelyn's direction, "But you're the youngest. That makes you special. So, what's it like, huh, walking around with that sweet Mason brand?"

Matt stared at Pope unflinchingly. "What's it like having hair like a girl?"

Evelyn had to shove her fist in her mouth to fight back against the sobs of laughter that were threatening to spill out of her mouth. Apparently she wasn't entirely successful because, without turning around to look at her, Pope reached an arm behind him and gave her the finger, which of course only made her laugh more. Soon Pope was laughing a bit too. "We're going to have to work on your insults, kid."

Evelyn shouted from her position. "Tell him he looks like the 'before' photo from a Garnier Fructis commercial!"

Matt looked up at Pope. "You look like the 'before' photo fr—"

Pope held a finger up to silence the kid. "Not another word," he turned to face Evelyn, pointing at her accusingly, "from either of you." Evelyn gave him a facetious salute and he just rolled his eyes. He returned to his role as supervisor, wandering aimlessly around the stations and yelling really loudly. "Come on. Andale! Andale! Twelve hours, just half a day!"

Check temperature. Stir liquid. Scoop liquid. Pour. Allow to cool. Extract product. Evelyn repeated those five steps over and over and over again. What could have been hours or minutes of work just existed within this nebulous time vacuum that was created by her work there over that heating unit. It was almost comforting. It allowed her to suppress all conscious thought, simply existing as an automaton that carried out those few short steps. For those hours, or minutes, she was at peace even though the 2nd Mass was at war. Check temperature. Stir liquid. Scoop liquid. Pour. Allow to cool. Extract product.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Evelyn continued her work while playing the movie 'Monty Python: Search for the Holy Grail' in her head. But then Weaver walked in and she immediately hit the mental pause button. When she had first met him, Weaver was one of those rare people who could be simultaneously both good and great, but recent events had shaken her faith in him. Tom had never gone into the specifics of his breakdown in that house in Allston, but Evelyn wasn't sure she could ever fully trust him after that. Even if he had recovered and was fully capable, there would always be that giant question mark stalking him. And the fact that he looked so damn anxious really didn't reassure her at all.

"Pope, front and center!"

This certainly caught Evelyn's attention, that he had called Pope and not Max. Evelyn shifted on her feet, her mind racing a million miles a minute. Weaver and Max hadn't interacted all that much during their time in the 2nd Mass, his injury prevented him from making a substantial contribution to the war effort. Pope was a seriously high maintenance individual who had taken up a fair amount of Weaver's time over the past few weeks, and he was certainly useful. So it made sense to Evelyn why Weaver would want to talk with Pope. What she didn't understand is why he had been called _without_ Max. Max was a marine, a military man, and could give perspective that Pope couldn't, and yet he was excluded. Why was that? Part of Evelyn couldn't help but think that this exclusion was due to Max's affiliation with her, and what separated her from every one else in that room? She was the only one of them to know about Weaver's breakdown.

Evelyn knew that Weaver had already seen her there, so she did her best to make herself look occupied, distracted. She turned her back to the two men, but she opened her ears and was grateful for her good hearing. She blocked out the hissing, scraping, and clanking of the workshop and focused instead on the labored, shuffling steps of Pope as he moved towards the door. "So, what is it? 'Sir, yes, sir?' 'Aye, aye, skipper?'"

Evelyn fought a smile hearing Pope's insubordinate remarks. It appeared that Weaver was getting flak from more than just her. But this time Weaver would not allow for any screwing around. "Cut the crap. Where do we stand with the I.E.D.?"

"I'll have you all wired up by mañana. Don't fret it."

"There's been a change of plans." At that statement Evelyn almost dropped the ladle of molten metal down her front. She tried her best to appear indifferent to the conversation while hanging on every single word, eager to know exactly what it was that Weaver was changing on such short notice. "I need four bombs. Can you do that?"

Four bombs? Why would they need four bombs if the original plan was still in play? They were taking out one leg of the structure, they needed one bomb, maybe two for insurance. But four?

Pope seemed almost as confused as she was. "I got the ingredients and enough barrels, but you split that blasting fuse four ways, and you're gonna have what you call a very short interval between lighting it and, uh…boom. But, yeah." Then Pope voiced the question that Evelyn was quietly screaming in her own head. "I thought we were just taking out one leg of that thing."

"If you want to get along with me, Pope, don't think. Just do what I tell you." And then he left.

Evelyn leaned over the counter, bracing herself with her hands on the edge of the counter. Everything else around her faded into white noise as she tried to assimilate this new information and make it make some kind of sense. Four bombs, no explanation. What the hell was going on?

Not only was Weaver playing his cards close to his vest, but he had all the cards. He had a monopoly on all the information available. And in this case those cards meant other people's lives. Evelyn wished she could trust Weaver as a leader, she wanted to trust him, but after what happened in Allston and what was happening right now…she just couldn't. And now she was caught in a bit of a dilemma. And she needed Tom. He was her voice of reason, the voice of caution, the voice of wisdom. He might not be the ideal military leader, but he was the conscience of the 2nd Mass.

Evelyn stayed in the workshop for some time after Weaver left so as not to arouse suspicion. Check temperature. Stir liquid. Scoop liquid. Pour. Allow to cool. Extract product. When she heard the rumbling of the motorbikes, she decided it was time to go. She reached behind her back, untied the string of the 'kiss-the-cook' apron she was wearing, yanked it over her head and chucked it on the counter. "Hey, Max, I'm going to go rendez-vous with our fearless leaders. I'm outta here."

She ran out of the room without a word so nobody could tell her off for bailing or dereliction of duty or something. As she made her way down the hallway to the front of the school, she heard the squeak of wheels against the floor. "Hey, Lyn! Wait up for a sec."

Evelyn spun around to face her friend. "You're not going to ram me again, are you?"

Max let out a weak laugh and shook his head. "No, I have no intention of maiming you again. I should probably apologize for that, but you kind of deserved it."

"Yeah, I kind of did."

Max sighed. "Look, I know I've been out of the loop for a while now, and for once I've actually been happy that way. Cecelia and Marjorie gave me a new family. They make me feel like this crapfest never happened. But that doesn't mean that I'm blind to everything, especially what's going Weaver. Something's off, isn't it?"

Evelyn hung her head and nodded. "Yeah, Max, something's off."

"What is it?"

She gnawed nervously on her fingernails. "The hell if I know, but I feel like it's coming to a head, and soon."

Max bit his lip. "Yeah, well, just know that you've got me on your side whenever the shit decides to hit the fan. We might not be partners anymore, but I've still got your back. Always."

Evelyn smiled at him. "I appreciate that, Max." She held out a hand, waiting for a fist bump. "Brother from another mother?"

Max brought in his fist. "Always and forever, sister from a different mister."

"I'll tell you first thing I find out."

Max spun around and headed back the workshop. "You better!"

Evelyn ran out the front of the school to see Hal and Maggie talking to Weaver. She couldn't hear what was being said, but as Weaver walked off both of them had expressions on their faces that spelled bad news.

Maggie was shaking her head, her frustration obvious. "This just keeps getting better and better."

Evelyn skidded to a halt in front of them, grabbing Maggie's arm to stop herself before she collided head-first into Hal. He put a hand on his shoulder to steady her, and it stayed there even after she had regained her balance. Slightly out of breath, she forced the words out of her as quickly as possible. "Why are you guys back so early? Bad news?"

Maggie scoffed. "You could say that."

Hal wiped at his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "There are signs of mechs up and down all the major roads to Boston. The routes are blown."

Evelyn's eyes widened. "Shit. They know we're at the school. It can't be too long before they hit us at home." She looked between her two friends, the expression in her eyes begging for information. "What's the plan now? Is the mission a no-go?"

Maggie shook her head. "Nope, it's still a-go."

Evelyn's mouth dropped in shock. "Well then how the hell are we supposed to—"

Hal brushed past the two girls, determination coloring his face. "I'm gonna find my dad."

Evelyn jogged after him to keep up, glancing over her shoulder to ensure that Maggie was still following her. "I haven't seen Tom all day. I mean, I've been working on the ammo the whole time, but I don't know that anyone's seen him."

Just as they were about to move out, they were stopped by a young voice. "Hal. Wait up."

When Evelyn turned to face Jimmy, she could see the guilt etched all over his face. She eyed him suspiciously. "Jimmy…what do you know?"

Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and took a steadying breath. "Your dad's in the brig."

Evelyn felt her hand form a fist and she slammed it into her forehead. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!"

**So that's chapter 24! Thank you guys so much for the reading/reviewing/following/favoriting.**

**I absolutely love getting reviews, they make my day, so type away on your little computer machines and push the button below!**

**Also, they kill skitters.**

**ADDENDUM: The soundtrack I set up has now been updated through chapter 24. Please check it out and tell me what you think, and make any suggestions you like. I love sharing music with people and this is one way I hope to do it. The track listing has like 85 songs on it, but it's worth it, I promise!  
**


	25. Mutiny

**So I was a bit under-whelmed by the response to the last chapter (only 2 reviews). Was there something you guys didn't like about it/were disappointed in? I don't know. I'd like to hear from you guys. It keeps me motivated, so….review? **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'Falling Skies' and any familiar dialogue I transcribed from my DVD Box Set. Unfortunately I don't own it.**

**Pictures of my OCs are on my profile. Copy the links and delete the spaces.**

**I made a soundtrack for the story which is also on my profile as another story. **

Chapter 25 – Mutiny

Mutiny. Coup. Usurpation. Treason. Betrayal. As Evelyn stood in the medical bay, those were the words spinning around in her head. That was what they were doing, wasn't it? There was no question in her mind that Weaver could not be fully trusted, but the solution that had been laid before her was not one she was comfortable with. She looked around the room at her at her fellow dissenters: Hal, Maggie, Anne, Max, and Jimmy. Lourdes was tending to Dai in the corner, but she would certainly suffer from 'guilt by association'. Whatever would come to pass in the next few hours, the burden of it, whether it be praise or blame, rested on their shoulders.

To Evelyn's surprise Anne wasn't, well, surprised. There was some indignation, but there was no outright shock like that Evelyn herself had experienced. Her voice was sedate. "I don't believe this. Weaver's holding Tom in custody."

It was Jimmy to step forward and explain the situation. Evelyn felt for the boy, what with his relationship with Weaver. It was the closest to a father-son relationship either of them were likely to ever see again, so Evelyn understood the hesitancy that colored his voice. "Danner's watching him in the boiler room. Tom was asking about the drugs he was taking, and he lost it."

Anne gave a nod of understanding. "I'm not surprised."

Evelyn, however, was not going to let that point pass by so casually. Her hand shot up into the air. "Um, I'm surprised! My curiosity has been peaked! Weaver's dosing? When the hell did that start?"

Anne subconsciously shifted on her feet. Evelyn took notice of the direction she had indicated and as her eyes followed that invisible thread they fell on two figures, Dai and Lourdes. Evelyn let out a sharp breath. "Lourdes, I didn't take notes in class yesterday. Mind if I borrow yours?"

Lourdes blinked for a moment, perplexed by the abstract wording, but as the light of comprehension entered her eyes, it was quickly replaced by an expression of guilt. She took a few steps towards them, biting her lip nervously. "Yeah, um. It started a few weeks ago, when he started to really have problems sleeping. He really needed sleep. He told me that Dr. Harris had prescribed him some pills when he was still….with us—" Evelyn felt a small chill go down her spine at the mention of the man she had once almost respected. "Lourdes seemed hesitant to carry on with her story, so Evelyn gave her a slight smile and a nod of encouragement. "Well he asked me to give him Phenobarbital and amphetamines."

That had Evelyn shocked. "He was on downers AND uppers. No wonder he had that breakdown. I mean, if you keep taking those mental stability isn't really in your plans for the future."

Max was shaking his head. "Jesus. Back in the corps they had this stuff called 'Ripped Fuel' to keep us awake on missions. That stuff was crazy. I think it had like thirty carcinogens and shit in there, but we never, EVER mixed drugs like that. That's bad idea jeans."

Anne nodded. "So you see our dilemma."

Evelyn turned her back to everyone else, her hand massaging her forehead and staving off another headache. "OK, OK, so what do we do now, like, logistically?"

When she turned back to look at the others, she could see that rage bubbling up inside Hal. Pretty soon it would spill over. And the result would not be constructive. She took a few quick steps towards him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, hey, look at me." He glanced up at her and gave him a meaningful look. "It's going to be alright. We're going to fix this." He didn't say anything. He just took a breath and nodded, a little bit of the anger leaving his eyes.

Jimmy took a few anxious steps towards Hal, eager to both comfort him and to vindicate his father figure. "I don't think Weaver wants to hurt your dad. I don't know why he's doing this, but he's a good man."

Evelyn smiled sadly at the younger boy. "Jimmy, him being a good man was never what was in question."

Hal scoffed. "The hell it isn't!"

Evelyn shot him a warning glare. He rolled his eyes and tensed his jaw, but he stopped talking. Anne, however, was not so restrained. Evelyn could hear bitterness rolling off her voice in waves. "Good man or not, he's endangering everyone here."

"We got to get my dad out."

Evelyn nodded. "Agreed. So where do we go from here?"

Jimmy jumped in, eager to rectify this unfortunate situation in whatever way possible. "Maybe I can help!"

A slight groaning noise came from the corner of the room and Lourdes's head shot up quickly. "Dr. Glass! Anne! It's Dai! He's waking up!"

"Coming, Lourdes!" Anne began to move towards her patient, but turned to give one last instruction. "Hal, when you get Tom, you bring him here."

Evelyn took a breath before she turned to move out the door. That threshold marked the point of no return. Once she walked through it, there was no going back. She heard the squeak of rubber on laminate as Max came in line with her. "You sure about this, Lyn. Weaver might be miles off his rocker, but this is a pretty drastic step. I don't want to see you caught in the middle of it."

Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut, trying to build up the courage to cross the Rubicon. "No, Max, I'm not sure about this. I'm not sure about this at all. But I'm already in the middle of it and I'm not seeing many other options here."

Max nodded in understanding. "Alright, Lyn. Just…be careful."

Evelyn let out a single wry laugh. "You know me, Max. I'm always careful."

And then she strode out that door with Maggie, Hal, and Jimmy, imbuing herself with all of the confidence that she could muster. Time to put up or shut up.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

The four mutineers stood outside the door to the boiler room, trying to work out the best possible strategy for this low-rent prison break. Jimmy obviously had the in. He had been there when Tom was taken, and Danner wouldn't suspect him. Maggie would be the lookout. Hal and Evelyn would go where they were needed. Evelyn could hear Jimmy sucking in quick, ragged breaths. Her heart broke for him. He was among the first in a new breed of child soldiers, those forced to grow up far before their time. She put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him levelly. "Are you sure you're up for this, Jimmy."

He didn't say a word. He just gritted his teeth, gave a silent nod and picked up that tray of food, the Trojan horse that would get him through the gates. Hal kept the door cracked open so that they could hear what was transpiring below. Hushed voices bounced off the concrete and echoed up the short stairway that led down to the boiler room. Evelyn attempted to appear as casual as possible while her stomach was forming knots and her hands were tightening around her gun. And then the signal came, the clattering of the metal tray against the hard floor.

Evelyn's ears painted a picture of what was going on below. The clanking of the chain-link fence hitting the wall. The thud of a man being thrown against a wall. The grunts from the physical exertion of the fight. Hal glanced back at her and nodded before kicking down the door and bursting in, weapon ready to fire if necessary. Evelyn followed him in to see Tom pinning Danners to the ground. She was more than slightly shocked to see that the history professor had managed to outmaneuver the battle-hardered warrior, but she supposed at this point they were all battle-hardened warriors. Tom glanced back at her and Hal. "Give me something to tie him up!"

Evelyn reached into one of the pockets of her cargo pants and pulled out a roll of duct tape, running quickly to Tom's side and wordlessly wrapping Danners's wrists together over and over again. Hal searched around the area for something more solid than tape and settled on some wire now uselessly hanging from the wall. Evelyn backed away to let him finish restraining the soldier. She looked up at Jimmy whose expression appeared to be equal parts relief, panic, and grief. She walked towards him to make a comforting gesture, but he turned away, shaking her hand from where it settled on his arm. She turned back to Tom and Hal, who were quickly finishing their work on Danners. Tom glanced between the two teenagers. "What are you doing here?"

Hal's words came out breathlessly as he tried to restrain the 200 pounds of muscle that was struggling beneath him. "Well, we tried to make it to the five-mile mark, and we couldn't. We saw fresh signs of skitters and mechs."

"You tell that to Weaver?"

Hal let out a snort of derisive laughter. "First thing. He didn't care. We are 'punching through.' Dai's coming around." Evelyn could see the adrenaline wearing off as Hal's eyebrows creased in worry. "Dad, what are we going to do with him."

"Leave him. We've got to find a way to stop Weaver."

Danners was spewing out all manner of curses until Evelyn took another length of tape and covered it with tape, offering up a quiet 'sorry' and refusing to look him in the eye. She stood up and made her way to the door, affording one last glance at the man she had assaulted before ducking through and making her way back to the medical bay. She was already far behind the others, to she took a deep breath and paced her steps, actively attempting to appear nonchalant. Whether or not she was successful was not for her to say.

When Evelyn arrived at the medical bay, everyone was already gathered around Dai. He was looking at everyone accusingly. "I am in a hospital bed. Where is my jello. I believe jello is obligatory under these circumstances."

Evelyn let out a sigh of relief. He was alive. There was an IV sticking out of his arm and a large bandage covering his abdomen, but he was alive. Dai glanced past all the others to make eye contact with her. "So you made it. Glad to see that. I hear I owe you my life."

Evelyn let out a weak smile. "It was an even trade."

Tom brushed off all pleasantries and got right down to business. "I know you're hurting, Dai, but this is important. I need to know about Porter."

Dai tried to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse croak. He swallowed a few times, as if trying to prompt the saliva to moisten his throat. Evelyn quickly rushed to get him some water, gently helping him sit up so that he could pour it down. He nodded his thanks and told his story. "When Walsh and I reached Porter's post, the troops were already mobilizing, preparing for a skitter raid that some scouts had spotted."

Tom nodded impatient;y. "Yeah, yeah, we already got that part from Evey. What else?"

Dai swallowed again. "Well, an hour after we got there the ships dropped a bomb on the place. Then the skitters and mechs hit. Porter was pinned down…probably dead now."

Evelyn felt her entire body clench. The sentence rand in her ears over and over and over again. Porter is dead. Porter is dead. Porter is dead. She could hear Jimmy's adolescent voice crack during his exclamation. She could see the despair flit across Tom's face. She could feel Hal shudder from his position next to her. She glanced up and her eyes connected with Maggie's. Relatively speaking, they were the two outsiders in the 2nd Mass, but Maggie's eyes conveyed the catastrophe of this realization as much as Evelyn was sure that hers did. The complete silence that followed allowed the rest of Dai's harsh whispers sound like a strangled scream.

"I managed to haul Evelyn into that crappy old van and his team laid down cover for me. I got hit when a mech blew up. A piece of shrapnel blew in threw the window, caught me in the gut."

Tom was the first one of them to recover his wits. He leaned closer in and tried to keep his voice as calm as possible. "Dai, this is important. What were Porter's orders?"

Evelyn steeled herself for the news. She had a feeling it wouldn't be good. And she was right.

"The other regiments—they never reported in. Runners went out, never came back. And Porter said that without confirmation that the 4th and 5th were alive….the attack should be aborted."

"You told that to Captain Weaver?"

Dai nodded weakly. "All of it. The mission….it's no good."

Silence fell over the group for a few moments. Everything that needed to be communicated was done through hesitant glances and worried expressions. Maggie was the first to break it. "So we're in this alone?" It was more of an accusation than a question. But the people she was accusing weren't present. And soon they would have to be confronted. Evelyn knew that look on Maggie's face. It was the look she got before she ran. And Evelyn did not want her to run. Maggie let out a derisive scoff and turned to the window behind her. "Weaver sure doesn't have a problem with tall odds."

Anne shook her head in disbelief. "It's not like him to disobey an order from Porter. What is he thinking?"

Tom scratched at the back of his neck, much like Hal often did. "He's thinking he's gonna go ahead with the mission, facts on the ground be damned."

Evelyn chewed on her fingernails nervously. "I don't want to believe it, but I have to. Guys, there's something else…Weaver came into the workshop today—you saw him, Max—well he came to talk to Pope about…he came to talk to him about making more bombs. Specifically four bombs. I know you all can count, but I feel the need to reiterate that that's—"

"—one bomb for each leg of the structure." She glanced up at Hal whose eyes had widened at the new revelation. "Shit. So, how do we stop him? He's got all the fighters and all the weapons."

Tom considered the assertion for a moment. "Most of them, not all."

Evelyn cleared her throat and timidly raised her hand. "If I may." Tom gestured for her to continue. "Well…Weaver had the guns, and the weapons, and the support. There's no way we could take him down head on, but we could take something fundamental to the mission. Something that couldn't be replaced."

Evelyn could hear Maggie tapping her foot nervously. "Stop being so goddamn cryptic, Evelyn! Spit it out!"

"We get rid of the bombs. No bombs, no mission."

Tom stroked his chin in contemplation. "Does Pope know? About Weaver and the mission, I mean."

Evelyn shook her head. "Is he suspicious? Hell yes. But he doesn't _know_ anything for sure. Weaver's been pretty tight-lipped about everything. I mean, before Dai woke up he was the only one who knew anything."

"Do you think we could count on Pope to help us here?" Evelyn opened her mouth to reply, but Tom had his eyes on Maggie.

Maggie shifted slightly under the scrutiny. "Pope, he's a self-serving son of a bitch, but she's a survivor. Kinda like a cockroach. He'll do what's in his best interest, whatever the hell that is."

Tom nodded. "Alright. Alright, I'm going to get Pope to diffuse the bombs."

Anne turned to Tom. "You think we can trust him with something like this?"

"We don't have much of a choice, do we?"

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Evelyn stood around the corner from the workshop, listening to the commotion within. She heard Matt's youthful voice and Tom's angry one. Then it grew quiet for a while. Tom left. She waited. And low and behold, Pope popped his head out of the room and snuck down the hallway.

It was as she suspected. Pope had absolutely no intention of letting them diffuse the bombs. Maggie was right, he was a survivor, but if there was one thing he cared about more than his own life, it was killing the things that had most likely killed his kids. They were always there in the back of his mind. He got that far off look in his eye sometimes, the same look she had seen on the faces of countless parents in that pediatric oncology ward where she had spent the better part of a year. They're given a prognosis, their child is going to die, and yet they hold onto that faintest glimmer of hope that something might happen, some medical breakthrough or act of God, that could save their child's life. For the most part Pope had resigned himself to the idea that they were dead, but there was still that last little drop of hope in him, and it made him fight like hell against any who would harm them. But despite all of that, Evelyn came to one definitive conclusion. You could always trust Pope to be untrustworthy.

Evelyn smirked to herself and entered the room as stealthily as possible. She walked straight past all the bombs and the chemicals, making a beeline for the cabinets in the back of the room. Pope mentioned that he had plenty of materials, he could make plenty of bombs, but he would have to divide the blasting fuses. So if she took those, the mission's dead in the water. It was in those cabinets that she had seen Pope store those fuses out of the corner of her eye earlier that day. She extracted a bobby pin from her hair and jimmied the lock until it opened, grabbed the fuses, and ran like the wind.

Fifteen minutes later she was back in the medical bay, crouching next to Hal behind one of the beds. Maggie was behind the desk and Tom was behind a curtain. It was like one twisted post-apocalyptic game of hide-and-go-seek, only when you finally find your mark you end up looking down the barrel of a gun. Evelyn closed her eyes and tried to get a hold on her emotions. How had it come to this? The 2nd Mass was a family. Tom was the mom and Weaver was the dad, so the situation they were in now was what, a divorce? And given the amount of ammunition that may be involved in the proceedings, it was not going to be an amicable split. This was a fucking civil war. But she had chosen her side, she had picked her favorite parent.

"Evey?" She opened her eyes to find Hal staring at her.

"Yeah, Hal?"

"Do you think this will work?"

She drummed her fingers on the barrel the gun she was holding. It felt wrong in her hands. She had lost Sherlock at Porter's HQ, just another part of this whole scenario that seemed dirty and wrong. Like a betrayal. She bit her lip and tried to think of the best way to answer the question. "Well, Hal, I only see two real options here. It works or it doesn't. Weaver changes his mind or he doesn't. At this point I've really given up having faith in people, at least not when it comes to the big things. They always seem to let you down somehow, and the way they do it just keeps on surprising me."

Hal laughed lightly. "Well isn't that reassuring."

"It wasn't meant to be reassuring, it was meant to be honest." She grabbed at a chunk of hair that had fallen in her face and twirled it between her fingers, trying to focus on the way the light glinted off of it rather than Hal's closeness.

When Hal spoke again there was disappointment in his voice. "Are you giving up, Evey?"

She shook her head fervently. "No. Not just yet. Not ever, actually. It just keeps getting harder. At the beginning of all this I was so naïve. It was us against the skitters, but that's a child's perspective, isn't it? Nothing can ever be simple. At the beginning it was simple, all I was doing was staying alive, but now…now I feel like we're fighting each other with just as much intensity as we fight them. And I'm fucking tired. Sometimes I think Lourdes is so lucky to have the kind of faith that she has. But my faith in a divine creator was pretty much forfeit when I found out I had cancer—" She felt Hal clench at the mention of her condition. His jaw clenched and his eyebrows creased, but Evelyn chose to ignore it and keep talking. "I had faith in humanity, but that's been blown to hell, by my mother, by Clayton. I had faith in the 2nd Mass, and look where we are now. I'm just running out of things to have faith in."

Hal looked down at her. His face had gone from indignant to soft. "Have faith in us."

Evelyn blinked in shock. "Excuse me?"

"Have faith in us, Evey. Have faith in the fact that you've got my back and I've got yours. You said it yourself, we're partners, we look out for each other. I've got faith in a few things out here: my dad, Ben, Matt, and you."

"Wha—why? You've said time and time again that you can't trust me. That I hide too much, that I'm reckless, that I—"

Hal let out a frustrated laugh. "Yeah, yeah I did. And I was an idiot, an asshole even."

"Hal—"

"No, no, don't try to defend me. I pushed, I forced information out of you that you didn't want to give and I sure as hell didn't want to know." He rubbed at his nose with his thumb. "I was focusing on the small stuff, the petty stuff. But out here facts and dates and specific events, they don't really matter all that much. We live from moment to moment, so why harp on the past? And what I know, in this moment, is that you would risk your life to save mine without a second thought. You've done it before and you'll probably do it again. And I'd do the same for you."

"Hal, pl—"

"Would you shut up while I'm monologue-ing at you? Screw statistics, screw the future, and screw that giant clock that you seem to have ticking in your head. I would do it in a second. And that's what I have faith in. It's enough for me. And you're enough for me. Is it enough for you?"

Evelyn studied the floor with enthusiasm, trying to make sense of what he was saying to her. When she looked back up at him, his face was both expectant and apprehensive. When she let a soft, easy smile cover her face, his face visibly relax, and when she uttered the barely audible 'yes', it broke out into a giant smile.

"I'm glad you're here Evey."

She shot him an arch look. "I really would have preferred a more temperate climate."

He glared at her jokingly. "Shut up."

"Never!"

A few moments of silence passed between them.

"Hey, Hal?"

"Yeah, Evey?"

She bit her lip and shot him a few sidelong glances. "I'm glad I'm here too."

**So that's chapter 25. Thank you guys so much for the reading/reviewing/following/favoriting.**

**I absolutely love getting reviews, they make my day, so type away on your little computer machines and push the button below!**

**Also, they kill skitters.**


	26. Life or Death or Both or Neither

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'Falling Skies' and any familiar dialogue I transcribed from my DVD Box Set. Unfortunately I don't own it.**

**Pictures of my OCs are on my profile. Copy the links and delete the spaces.**

**I made a soundtrack for the story which is also on my profile as another story. **

Chapter 26 – Life or Death or Both or Neither

As Evelyn sat there in that room, glancing at the large man's watch on her right wrist over and over again. Somehow sitting there in silence was transforming the seconds into minutes and the minutes into hours. She might as well have been Rip van Winkle, a single moment being stretched out into years. But van Winkle, the luck bastard, got to sleep through those years while she was still clinically sleep-deprived. She glanced back at the watch. They had been there eleven minutes and twenty-two seconds. It was Max's watch. He had given to her after they had arrived at the 2nd Mass telling her to make sure that she got her time-points right out in the field, he wasn't going to be there to save her ass if she was too late or too early. He had worn that watch through two wars, and he had given it to her, because this was her war now. The watch on her wrist began to feel heavier and heavier while the tic-tic-tic of the second hand grew louder and louder, as if trying to be ominous. She kind of wanted to yell at it to shut the hell up.

When she heard those steady, fearless footsteps coming down the hallway she wasn't sure if she should let out a sigh of relief or suck in a sharp breath of anxiety. She glanced back at Hal. Her internal conflict must have shown in her eyes, because he gave her a smile and nodded in reassurance, giving her shoulder a tight squeeze. Evelyn glanced over at Anne who was kneeling next to Dai, checking his vitals. When she saw Weaver approach, the doctor decided to be proactive, taking a few steps towards the grizzled commander. "Captain Weaver."

Weaver walked into the room with more swagger than Evelyn would expect from someone in the middle of a mutiny. It made her nervous. Earlier Weaver had had all the cards, but now all involved were familiar with the hand that was dealt, right? But Weaver looked like he knew something that they didn't. He looked like he had an ace up the sleeve.

He turned to face Anne, squaring his shoulders and not releasing the gun he was holding. "Dr. Glass, I hear that Tom has been to see you. I need to know where he is."

All Evelyn could see was her back, but given the way her shoulders were moving, she could tell that Anne was taking a deep breath, trying to steel her nerves at the onslaught that could follow. "Captain Weaver, Tom, he told me what you've been going through. I'd feel a lot more comfortable if you put that gun down."

Evelyn could hear a light rustling sound. She glanced backwards and saw Maggie standing up far before her cue. What was she thinking? After Maggie had given away their presence, the rest of them had no choice but to reveal themselves. Evelyn took a deep breath, looked back at Hal. They nodded to each other and stood up, not sure what exactly it was that they would be facing.

By the time she came into view of the scene, Tom was holding a handgun against Weaver's temple. Part of her body felt the uncontrollable urge to vomit. This was all wrong. It was all so, so wrong. Weaver was the father of the 2nd Mass, Tom was the mother. They bickered and fought, but they never threatened each others' lives.

Evelyn saw Hal run straight towards Weaver, gun poised and ready to shoot and divesting the commander of his rifle and his sidearm. She couldn't blame him for the sentiment. Weaver had done his damndest to deceive them all, and he had taken Hal's father hostage in the process. And it was the relationship between Tom and Hal that had shown her what a father and child could be to each other. Still, the image of violence against one who had once been the closest of allies was difficult for Evelyn to bear. Evelyn tucked herself into the dark shadow of a corner behind Weaver, her gun lowered where everyone else's was raised. She almost didn't want him to know that she was there, that she was a participant in this mess. So she behaved like the coward that she was deep down where nobody else could see, and she hid. Evelyn had been betrayed time and time again, but she still wasn't sure how to openly betray someone else. She could hide in the shadows and collude, but somehow she could not find it in herself to look the victim of her judgment in the face. What did that make her?

Rooted firmly in the background of the confrontation, she stared intently at the back of Weaver's head. He looked left. He looked right. Evelyn almost felt relieved until he did an about face and looked her directly in the eye. When his eyes met hers, she initially found that she could not hold his gaze and turned away. But then she squeezed her eyes shut, steeled her nerves, and opened them again to look Weaver directly in the eye. She hoped her gaze contained everything it needed to: the anger for being deceived by him, the fear of the consequences of her own actions, and, finally, her hope for reconciliation. Weaver held her gaze for a few moments before looking back at those others before him. "What are you going to do?" The derision in his voice was unmistakable. He looked back at every single one of them, including Evelyn, with a wry smile on his face. "You gonna shoot me?"

Tom took a few steps forward, his gun still pointed directly at Weaver's head. "I'm the optimist, remember?" The irony of that statement rang loudly in Evelyn's ears. But Tom continued on in that same voice of good faith. Since when did good faith have to come at gunpoint? "I'm still hoping that you're gonna listen to reason. Now, what's the operational plan—the real one?"

Weaver's answer was too fast. It felt rehearsed. And it probably was. "Rendezvous with the 4th and 5th and launch a coordinated attack!"

Tom's tone shifted from conciliatory to angry. "I talked to Dai! Your orders were to stand down!"

Weaver was indignant. The thought of disobeying the direct order of a superior was still abhorrent to him, even though he was in the midst of such a situation, he still denied it. "That's not the way I heard it, Tom. The mission's still a-go unless the 4th and 5th are confirmed killed."

"Porter's last orders were to wait for that confirmation."

As his posture stiffened, Evelyn could tell that Weaver was becoming more and more frustrated. His next speech did not prove her wrong. "Damn it! The aliens have to know that we're not going to lie down!"

And then Tom became angry. Angrier than Evelyn had ever seen him before. Angrier than she had seen him in battle, witnessing horrible atrocities. Angrier than the time that she and Hal had backed his car into the garage door when they were eight. He had the anger of a husband widowed and a father whose son had been taken from him. "You think I want to fight them? Move." He gestured the gun so that he could aim it at Weaver without any danger of anyone else falling in the crosshairs. Evelyn shivered at the possible outcomes of this development, but she trusted Tom in the same way she always had. She trusted him to do the right thing. When he spoke again, his voice sounded simultaneously like a shout and a whisper. "This has to be done the right way. That means all the cards on the table with a commanding officer whose judgment hasn't been compromised."

Weaver almost seemed casual while looking down the barrel of a Glock. "How far you gonna go with this, Tom?"

"Pretty far. I had Pope diffuse the bombs. And if you don't back off, I'm gonna be forced to relieve you of your command."

Weaver looked concerned for a moment, sad almost, but then Evelyn heard something to her left that stole her attention altogether. It was the sound of a gun cocking. "Ah, ah!" The syllables were lilting, almost mocking the entire confrontation that was in progress. She turned and found Pope, standing slightly ahead of her, holding a semi-automatic rifle. How the hell had he gotten his hands on one of those? From her position in the corner, she could see the movement of is eyeballs as they darted about, glancing between all the figures except her who was still concealed in the shadows. The words that came out of his mouth were dripping with contempt. "You're fast, Maggie, but not that fast."

Evelyn stayed in her position for the time being, choosing to see how the situation was going to play out. Hal made eye contact and she just nodded definitively. She would be there to make her move when the time came. Until then she would let Pope blather on. The man gave a nonchalant shrug before continuing on with his monologue. "Sorry…..but you may want to reconsider that professor."

Hal gave a quick nod and began talking, distracting attention from Evelyn and focusing it on the self-indulgent, self-loathing, self-aggrandizing grease bucket. "Dad, what's he doing? I though you talked to him."

Tom gritted his teeth. "I did." Tom reluctantly handed Weaver back his sidearm as Pope gave his speech and his rifle from Hal.

"My apologies, Cambridge, but, uh…I just couldn't bring myself to diffuse those charges. I figured I had a choice of either sitting around or…..killing cooties, and, uh…..cooties win every time." Evelyn saw Tom's face fall even further than it had before. It was the face of disappointment, of failure. And Pope couldn't help but gloat. "…But you'll be happy to know that those bombs are beauts. They're gonna cause a lot of damage."

Evelyn decided that, in that moment, it was time to reveal herself. When she did, she saw Weaver falter a little. He had apparently forgotten about her, tucked away in the corner. Not that she was surprised. There was quite a bit going on. She only afforded herself a few seconds of eye contact before averting her gaze from his once again. The Glock Max had given her was in her hand. She cocked the gun and aimed it at Pope's head, nudging the base of his neck with the muzzle. "No they're not, Pope."

Pope turned slightly to talk to her, never lowering his rifle. "Pardon me, Red, but I think that they will. They're my masterpiece, my fucking statue of David. There ain't anyone alive who could break those babies down except little old moi. Not you, not your boyfriend Captain Wow over there, not dear old dad Senor PhD, not Professor X in his little chair, not Doctor Quinn, not Maggie with her glittering heart of gold, not nobody, understand?"

"Oh I understand you very well, Pope. I understand you enough to have developed one basic rule: you can always be trusted to be untrustworthy."

Pope gave her a sly smile. "You wound me, Hot Lips."

Maggie took half a step towards him before he turned his gun on her. She stopped her advance, but with as much venom in her voice as she could muster, she still spat out, "Watch your mouth, ingrate."

"Oh, Maggie, why so hostile?"

Maggie was about to make another move towards Pope, but Evelyn cut her off with some icy words. "Yes, Pope, you're the kung-fu master of destruction, but your bombs are no good without a way to set them off. When you scuttled off to warn Weaver, I took the blasting fuses."

The atmosphere in the room changed. She didn't want to have to reveal that little piece of information unless absolutely necessary. She had hoped that Weaver and Tom would be able to talk it out, no interference required. She hadn't wanted it to be necessary to show the ace she had up her sleeve. But Pope had made it necessary. She glanced back at Hal who was staring at her with incredulity. "Evey, how could you not tell me this?"

Evelyn glanced down at her feet. "This wasn't a card I wanted to have to play. I was hoping that we would be able to resolve all this in a civil way, and then, you know, skip through a sunlit meadow holding hands or some shit like that."

Weaver took a few steps towards her, his face a mixture of grief, panic, and rage. "Oh, we're way past holding hands, Walsh. Where are they?"

Anne quickly came to her defense. "The aliens can't kill us fast enough? We have to do it for them?"

Evelyn saw Weaver's jaw clench. His face was one of a man on the edge. He cocked his gun and aimed it at Evelyn. "Where are the damn fuses?"

Hal made a move to step in front of Evelyn, but Tom held him back. He continued to struggle against his father's tight grasp. "Let me go, Dad! I said let me—Evey get out of there!"

"I'll be fine, Hal." Evelyn didn't look at him. She just put down her gun, looked Weaver straight in the eye, and took a few small steps forward until the barrel of the gun was pressed directly against her heart. Her eyes locked with those of the grizzled commander. "Is this really what it has to come to? Is this what you want?"

Weaver shook his head. "Girlie, this is so far from what I want."

Evelyn cocked her head to the side and looked at him. No fear, no judgment, just pure inquiry. "Then why are you letting it be this way?"

Pushing Hal behind him, Tom tried to talk Weaver down. "You said that the only way this works is if people have faith in their commanding officer. That goes both ways. You have to have faith in them."

Weaver's gun swung away from Evelyn's chest to point at Tom. She couldn't repress the tiny sigh of relief, her mask of false bravado slipping, but when she saw Tom's position, she felt her muscles seize up again. Her eyes went straight for Hal, and she nodded in a way that she hoped was reassuring. Weaver's quiet rage frightened her far more than his screams. "I'm doing this for them, for all of us!"

Tom's voice switched from forceful to soothing and conciliatory. "Alright, then tell them the truth. Tell them Porter's gone and that this attack, whether we live or die, isn't just going to be a command decision." Tom threw his gun to the floor as Evelyn had, his resignation reinforcing his point. With that gun in his hand, Weaver had the same kind of control over Tom's fate that he did over the fate of the 2nd Mass. "We don't have enough people left for a suicide mission." He walked into Weaver's gun. "Go ahead and do it. Go ahead. If shooting me keeps the 2nd Mass together, go ahead and do it because 'm not the one that pulls it apart. There's another way."

"What?" Weaver's voice was desperate, pleading for a way out, a way to reconcile the two types of right that had presented themselves. His eyes were begging for a reconciliation of ideas.

"You can trust our people the way they trust you."

Evelyn stepped behind Tom next to Hal, taking his hand in hers. "Or at least the way they want to trust you. I believe in the mission, sir, and I would join it in a second, reinforcements or no. But I need—we all need—to know exactly what it is that we're getting into. A blind cat catches only a dead rat, sir. I want to catch a whole lot of living rats, and make them dead, and this sure as hell isn't the way to do it."

At that point Jimmy came into view, moving to stand near to her and Hal. "C-captain?" Evelyn didn't know how deep the relationship between the two actually went, but it seemed to her that each was the closest thing to family the other had in this world. When Weaver looked at the young boy, the severe mask he had been trying to keep on his face broke completely.

Anne joined the others in standing behind Tom. "We want to follow you—all of us."

Evelyn gave a slow, meaningful nod, agreeing with Anne's statement. "There are few people in this—or any—world who can claim to be both good and great. I thought you could be one of those men. Still do. But—"

"But you can't lie to us." Evelyn looked up in surprise as Hal broke in. He never really was one to contribute to such a controversy. Feeling her eyes on him, he glanced down at her and gave her hand a squeeze of reassurance. "You have to let us follow you, rather than yanking us along behind you. For there to be trust, there has to be transparency."

Evelyn smiled and muttered under her breath, "That's a big word."

"Shut up. I'm busy being deep here."

They looked at each other or a while, smiling a bit despite the circumstances that surrounded them, lost to whatever was happening around them before being called back to attention by Weaver. "Pope, put down your weapon."

Pope's voice was colored by disbelief. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I said lower your weapon."

And to Evelyn's surprise, Pope actually listened.

Evelyn let out a sigh of relief and took a few steps back from Tom and letting her shoulders sag, abandoning the tense, upright position they had maintained throughout the entire interaction. But she never let go of Hal's hand. And he didn't seem eager to let go of hers either.

She turned back to Weaver, wanting to hug him, but his face suggested that he wasn't ready for pleasantries. "I'm not saying you're right, Tom. But they deserve to know the facts of the mission."

Tom's voice rang through the room, as it had in all those lectures she had witnessed. Ever the professor. "Call for volunteers. But they got to hear both sides."

"And they will….'cause you'll be right there with me." When Weaver handed Tom the gun, Evelyn felt a surge of joy run through her body. There was no rift, no conflict. If anything, the two men had gained more respect for each other, and that could do nothing but good for the regiment. "Jimmy, gather everyone in the gym. Ten minutes."

Before she did anything else, Evelyn released Hal's hand and walked towards Weaver, pulling him in a tight embrace. It took a while, but eventually his arms found their way around her as well. When they had, Evelyn leaned her head on his shoulder and whispered into his ear, "I'm in. I don't care about the risks or the consequences, just know that I'm coming with you." She released Weaver and nodded, turning back to Hal. His face bore an uncertain expression, but Evelyn chose to ignore it. She walked out the door and headed to the gym as quickly as possible, arriving even before Tom and Weaver did. As she stood there alone, waiting for the announcement that was to follow, Maggie approached, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her, but never looking her in the eye. "You're going, aren't you?"

Evelyn could feel the pain and the fear in Maggie's voice, but it wouldn't change her answer. "Of course I'm going. How could I not?"

Maggie shook her head. "Just because you're going to go soon doesn't mean you have to go now."

"Now's as good a time as any, isn't it?"

Maggie stared her straight in the face. "No. Later is better. But that's not going to change your mind, is it?"

Evelyn laughed lightly. "No, it won't." She looked at Maggie for a few moments. "You're staying here."

Maggie stepped away from Evelyn and rounded on her. "Like hell I am!"

Evelyn smiled a bit at the outburst. "Of course you're staying Maggie. You're needed here. You need to be that pillar of strength that keeps everything going."

Maggie snorted. "Please. The ex-con becomes the inspiration? This isn't some soap opera television show."

Evelyn put her hand on the older girl's shoulder. "You're not an ex-con. You're not your mistakes, Maggie. You've got to let them go. You've got the cleanest slate you could hope for. Now use it. Be something amazing with it. You have more potential than you could possibly imagine, you just have to realize it."

And at that Evelyn walked away, choosing to leave Maggie with the words she had just spoken. It made her sad that Maggie doubted herself so much, and she hoped that leaving her with those words ringing in her ears would make her realize her own value, both as an individual and as an asset.

As Evelyn walked away, she looked over at Maggie, hoping that she had found a place to dedicate herself. Evelyn saw the girl stand next to Jimmy and place her had on the boy's shoulder. Comfort. Maggie was part of the 2nd Mass, whether she wanted to admit it or not. The spectre of the little boy she had never named would always be there, but Evelyn wouldn't allow it to rule her friend's life.

Evelyn loved Maggie, with all her heart and soul she loved her. But when Evelyn looked into the older girl's eyes, all she saw was guilt and revenge. In Maggie's eyes, revenge and justice were synonymous under these circumstances, and she didn't want to know where justice would lead.

Evelyn was the first in place, standing front and center for the speech that hoped would allow her to maintain that same brave face that had appeared so many times before. Evelyn stood there, as close a she could get to the podium without seeming like a kiss-ass. She already knew that she was going, even if nobody else did.

She glanced back to the doors of the gym, standing there quietly until she saw Tom and Weaver stride through the doors, Hal following close. When he caught sight of her he offered up a small, apprehensive smile. She tried to return it, but all she felt was a grimace. She turned to the podium to watch as Weaver walked up, his mouth stern and his eyes blazing with determination. She tuned him out a bit and paid more attention to his tone than anything else. She had already made her decision, there really wasn't anything for her to consider. She felt someone walk up next to her. She didn't bother to turn, she already knew who it was. "You drag your heels when you walk."

Hal laughed lightly. "Yeah. My mom used to say that too."

Evelyn nudged him with her elbow. "I always knew she was smart."

"Yeah." The word came out half as a laugh, half as a sigh. "You kind of remind me of her sometimes. Not when you're cursing like a sailor or cracking jokes about nerdy scifi stuff—"

"Hey! We are living in a Spielberg movie and you're expecting me to not make a couple of Star Wars references? Seriously, Hal, sometimes—" But Hal was shaking with laughter. "What?"

"There it is. When you're yelling at me or telling me what to do, and when you're talking to Matt or Ben, you are just like her. I swear, sometimes I expect you to tell me to clean up my room, do my homework, and turn down my music." He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Sometimes, just for a second, it feels like nothing's changed. And then you punch me in the arm and call me by some stupid nickname like Senor Crabs McMillan or whatever it was that you called Dai last week."

Evelyn nodded and laughed a bit, still looking forward at Weaver who was still delivering his speech. "And what? Realize that reality is a lot more disappointing."

"Nope. It's just that….as much as I want to go back, some change can be good." Hal took his hands out of his pockets. When they fell to his side, the back of his hand brushed against the back of hers. Neither of them moved.

Weaver's voice rang clear throughout the room. "So I'm asking for volunteers. I need 50 fighters for the mission. If you're with me, meet me in front."

Evelyn could hear the muted muttering of those around her. Some were agreeing, others calling him crazy. Evelyn silently stepped away from Hal, melting into the crowd behind her, and headed to the front of the school. She set herself to work, hauling boxes of ammunition, refueling bikes, anything that was necessary. She allowed her mind to wander. Was this mission worth it? Was she coming back? The answer to all those questions was one giant 'I don't know'.

She straddled her bike and kicked it into gear, glancing back at the school. She never really was one for goodbyes. If it really was to be your last time speaking to someone, would you really want your last words to be 'see you later' or some other equally dull platitude? No.

Just as she was about to hit the gas, she heard the rumbling of a motor approaching her. It skidded to a halt next to her, kicking gravel up and onto her boots. "Hal? What are you doing?"

Hal just smirked from his position next to her. "Come on, Evey. You didn't seriously think I would miss this. You don't get to have all the fun. Besides, we're partners. I've got to be there to make sure you don't do anything stupid like try and jump a skitter."

"But your family—"

"No. It's time to hit them and hit them hard. And goddamnit if I'm not going to be a part of it. We're going to blow that think to kingdom come and we're going to make them rethink this war. I gotta do this, for my mom, my dad, and Ben and Karen and for you too. I mean, for all of us. If I wasn't there, I know I'd regret it."

Evelyn nodded and smirked. "OK, then. Stay behind me and I'll protect you from the big bad aliens."

Hal shook his head. "You sure know how to emasculate a guy right before he heads off to war."

"Don't be sexist, Hal."

He laughed. "How is it that every conversation we have turns into a fight?"

"Please, Hal, who are you kidding. We both like it that way."

"I suppose we do, don't we." He swung his head around to look at her in a cocky, self-assured way. "Let's twist this. Eye of the tiger, baby!"

Evelyn snorted. "Sure, Hal. Eye of the fucking tiger."

And then they drove off to war.

**Thanks again to my readers for supporting me through this effort. You guys are the best!**

**REVIEWS KILL SKITTERS AND CAUSE CATASTROPHIC FAILURES IN THE MECH MACHINERY! Therefore all the characters would be grateful if you did!**


	27. Start and Stop

**Sorry for the late posting, but I've been suffering from a bit of a hurricane. I hope it was worth the wait.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'Falling Skies' and any familiar dialogue I transcribed from my DVD Box Set. Unfortunately I don't own it.**

**Pictures of my OCs are on my profile. Copy the links and delete the spaces.**

**I made a soundtrack for the story which is also on my profile as another story. **

Chapter 27 – Start and Stop

Start and stop. Start and stop. Start and stop. Ever since she had joined the 2nd Mass, nothing had ever stopped. Between traitorous leaders, alien attacks, recon missions, food raids, her stint as the leader of a gang of cheeky misfits, and not to mention an attempted mutiny there was never an opportunity to. In those few weeks she had been there, and even before, she had to stay on the whole time.

But now things had come full circle. Once again, it was all about the waiting, that vacuum of action that occurs in between violent outbursts. Start and stop. They slowly made there way down the back roads on the way to Boston, the convoy leapfrogging from point to point. When Evelyn felt the hum of the bike underneath her and heard the hum of the engines at work, she felt as though she was making progress. But for once in her sorry existence, Evelyn didn't want to move forward. She wanted to stand still. She wanted to stand still and revel in being alive. She wanted to stay stopped with the people she cared about. And as soon as she got comfortable, as soon as she started playing a hand of poker with Anthony, hurling smartass comments at Pope, or talking with Hal, it was time to start again, time to pull the roots. The closer they got to Boston, the more difficult it became to kick that bike into gear because for the first time since she was a little kid, she didn't mind growing roots. She finally had a home, and it wasn't the music room or the high school, it was the people. Every single one of them, from the wide-eyed and innocent little Matt to the grizzled and straight-laced Weaver to the brash, hostile, and probably disease-ridden Pope, fit together to form a single, dysfunctional unit, and they were where she wanted to be.

She was leaning against her bike next to the pickup truck that was carrying the explosives. She closed her eyes and listened to Anthony complain about his safety situation. "—I'm going on record saying I don't like it. I don't have many rules, but one of them is to keep the heavy explosives away from my junk. I have fantastic junk, and I want it to stay exactly where it is."

Evelyn smiled to herself, not opening her eyes. "Don't worry about your junk Anthony. It's not your fate to be turned into a Ken doll. If the explosives go off you probably won't survive the blast and you will never ever have to understand the psychological, emotional, physiological, and spiritual trauma of being rendered junkless."

"Thanks, Walsh, that's really comforting. You're really putting my mind at ease here."

Evelyn smirked to herself. "I do what I can for morale."

Pope's derisive drawl broke into the conversation. 'Ignore her, Anthony. Red over there has no respect for the sanctity of the junk. Why just yesterday she was threatening to turn mine into Uncle Scott's oatmeal with the tip of her steel-toed boot."

Even with her eyes closed she could hear Anthony wince. "Now that just ain't right."

Evelyn smiled to herself. "That threat didn't arise from a disrespect for the junk, Pope. It originated from the very rational wish to remove your little swimmers from the gene pool. You know, for the future of the planet and all. I figured I could do humanity a favor." She yawned and stretched her arms. "Besides, your manhood fell off the back of that truck three stops back when I whooped your ass at Texas Hold'em."

Pope laughed. "Snark really is your only setting, isn't it, Hot Lips? Ever the mouthy little bitch."

Evelyn was laughing at Pope's jovial hostility heard the crunching of the gravel underfoot as someone approached. "Shut your mouth Pope, before I shut it for you."

Evelyn opened her eyes and sat up. "Hal, that's not nece—"

But Pope had latched on already. "Big little Mason wants to fight for the honor of his fair maiden? You wanna play loverboy? 'Cause I'll play."

Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "Pope, could you not be an antagonistic sonofabitch for like fifteen—"

But Hal had already made his way up to the side of the truck. "One of these days, Pope, I'm going to kick your ass so thoroughly you won't be able to tell down from up. But for today we need you. After that…" He left the sentence hanging, walking backwards with his arms wide open. A challenge. Hal straddled his bike and kicked it into gear. "Weaver says to saddle up. The next five klicks are clear." He took off towards the front of the convoy, leaving Evelyn in shock at the blatant hostility.

Evelyn climbed onto her bike and sat there for a moment. As Pope's truck started and began to move forward Pope shouted back his final parting shot. "Hey, Red! Your boyfriend's kind of a douche!"

Evelyn shook her head and revved the engine, taking off down the highway, making her way to the front of the line. These days, she had no idea what was going on with her and Hal. Whatever their relationship was, it was highly dysfunctional, just like all her other relationships. They were friends, that much was clear. There was a mutual physical attraction, Hal had made that one obvious enough when he kissed her. But between them there seemed to be this nebulous cloud of guilt and pain and joy and loss and hope and…

Start and stop. Her relationship with Hal was much like this long and winding trek to Boston. There would be a change, a movement in their dynamic, and then one of them would push back, push away. And it was usually her. Start and stop. Flirt and fight. All's fair in love and war, but if you combine the two things can get really complicated really fast.

Did she love Hal? Evelyn saw his silhouette weaving back and forth between the trucks. Yeah. Yeah, she did. As much as an emotionally immature eighteen-year-old with abandonment issues and a martyr complex could be. She had had a crush on him ever since she could remember. But as a kid all there's only ever yanked pigtails and skinned knees after shoves on the playground. And after that they didn't really speak anymore. It was just nostalgia and hormones. But now….now they knew each other, and all those years of crushing felt justified. Because he was a gigantic pain in the ass, and yet she somehow always wanted him around. She felt better when he was around. The question was, did he feel the same? Sometimes she thought the answer was yes. Mostly she made herself think the answer was no. But at this point she had settled on a hopeful maybe. But then it occurred to her, how was this fair to Hal. He had lost Karen, but that was a tragedy. Losing her was an eventuality, a certainty.

The cars started to pull to a stop again, Weaver's voice carrying above the roaring engines. "OK, OK, right there. Whoa! Let's go!" He pointed forward and spoke in a lower voice to a couple of scouts who then took off down the road, presumably to check if the coast was clear.

Evelyn pushed the internal debate from her mind. Hormones and firearms were not good bedfellows. She slowed her speed and slowed to a stop on the opposite side of the road from Hal's bike. She could see him there, standing still and drumming his fingers nervously on the handlebars. She leaned forward a bit and tried to get a look at his face. "Hey, you OK?"

He gave her face a fleeting glance. "Hm, yeah. I'm fine."

She swung her leg off her bike and walked over to him. "Really? Because it kind of seems like you were eager to start something."

The tapping of his fingers resumed. When he looked back up, worry was etched in his face. "I'm nervous, Evey. Terrified even. More terrified than I've ever been in my entire life." His eyes were wide, but his voice was steady. "Aren't you scared?" Evelyn felt her face break out into a smile. Hal's face went from worried to offended. "I'm being a girl and sharing my feelings. Is it really necessary make fun of me at every opportunity?"

Evelyn shook her head, leaning against the back of a nearby car, the smile never leaving her face. "It's not—Hal I'm not teasing you or anything. It's just such a fundamentally stupid question. Of course I'm terrified. I'm terrified of the skitters, the mechs, their airships, and more than anything else of those harnesses. I'm terrified of you dying. I'm terrified that something's happened to Amy, Ben, and everyone else back at the school. I'm one giant mass of adrenaline-fueled nerves. I have been for over a month now. Since long before I got to the 2nd Mass. For most of my life, even."

Hal nodded, laughing lightly. "You don't look it."

"Yeah, well, a peaceful home environment was pretty much contingent upon being able to repress your emotions. I've learned to hide it. Hiding led to coping."

"And how do you cope?"

"Simple. The thing that scares me most is failing. After that everything else just falls away. Fight fear with fear."

Hal let out a low whistle. "That…..doesn't sound healthy."

Evelyn snorted. "When's the last time anybody ever accused me of being healthy? The whole 'the only thing to fear is fear itself' thing is a nice thought. It's inspirational, it provokes a response, but practically speaking I don't think it's really plausible. Fear can be a great motivator. If you accept the fact that you're already dead, then the main object of your fear is failure to complete the mission. It keeps you from making those mistakes that could potentially compromise the plan or get people killed."

"That's really morbid, Evey. Even for you that's…..How can you live thinking like that? It's crazy."

"It might be crazy, but she's not wrong," a harsh, gravelly voice broke in. "War and sanity don't exactly go hand in hand. Though I'd hardly expect someone as young as you to know anything about it."

Evelyn cleared her throat awkwardly. "Yeah, well, I used to play a lot of 'Call of Duty'. And I own 'Band of Brothers' on DVD so…"

Hal sensed that she was uncomfortable and broke in. "We've been lucky so far."

Weaver let out a derisive laugh. "So far today or so far this year?"

Hal and Evelyn responded at the same time, one answering "today" and the other answering "both".

Weaver squared his shoulders, looking down the road as if he was expecting something to appear at the end of it. Evelyn could see the tension in his posture. He might have been eager to get into this fight, but it did not mean he entered it lightly. He knew the risks. He was the one who was literally driving them all into it. So he was wary, especially of such a seemingly easy trek. "Skitters must be concentrating their forces on the main highways, but that could change." As he reached to wipe at his mouth, a nervous habit of his that Evelyn had noticed, his hand shook. Evelyn recognized that shake. It was the same shake she had seen in Maggie's hands little more than a year and a half ago. It was withdrawal. Weaver turned slightly, stopping before he was fully facing the two young soldiers. "How much did Tom tell you?"

Hal sighed. "There aren't a lot of secrets between us."

"Technically Lourdes told me," Evelyn broke in, taking a swig of water. "Apparently I have a trustworthy face. People keep telling me secrets."

"And the two of you still took the mission?"

Hal walked up to Weaver, lowering his voice so nobody else could hear. "My dad said you stopped taking the pills. That's good enough for me."

Weaver turned to Evelyn. "And you?"

"Tom didn't say anything to me. I picked up on the shakes before we left, and I know what they mean. I would have come anyway, though. You know that."

Weaver wiped at his mouth again, this time without the shakes. "I know that, Walsh. I think you're crazy, but I get it."

Hal stood shoulder to shoulder with the commander he was holding a gun on a few hours earlier. "Still wondering why _I_ came?"

Weaver smiled a bit. "Am I?"

"I just remember my dad telling me about the day after Pearl Harbor was bombed, how thousands of guys, some of them as young as me, came flooding into the recruiting offices. There was absolutely no way they knew how long that war would last or how hard it would be, but they just knew they had to fight back."

Weaver laughed a bit. "Like father, like son, huh? Always with the history lesson." Hal rolled his eyes at the jab while Weaver turned to face him. "You know this is different, right son? Our enemies—they aren't like us. They don't make the same mistakes we do. They haven't missed a beat yet."

Evelyn nudged Weaver's leg with the toe of her boot. "Yeah, well, conversely we don't make the same mistakes they do."

"Yeah, and look around you captain," Hal said backing away and gesturing at the road around him as the sounds of motorbikes approaching filled their ears, "I'd say they've missed one beat."

"Knock on wood," Evelyn said, rapping her knuckles against the side of Hal's skull.

Hal rubbed at the area she had hit. "Jesus, Evey, is that really necessary. You're insulting my intelligence and hitting me over the head?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm a multi-tasker. Now let's get back to our bikes. We've got some skitters to blow into oblivion. Knock on—"

"Don't!" Hal said grabbing the wrist attached to the hand moving towards his head. "Don't you dare."

The two scouts Weaver sent out reappeared and waved the convoy forward. Evelyn could hear the smile in Weaver's voice as he called out once again. "All clear! Let's move!"

Evelyn and Hal moved to their separate bikes, both mounting them and kicking them on. They looked to each other, the stare interrupted by the cars passing by. The two minors heading off to fight. They couldn't drink, they were barely old enough to vote, but could sure as hell die for the cause. Hal nodded to her and shouted over the roaring engines. "You ready for this?"

She smirked and shouted back, "I was born ready!"

By the time the convoy finally came to a stop again, they were within sight of Boston and the ugly, menacing structure that loomed over it. The roads that had previously been cleared were now scattered with burnt-out cars and bits of debris. Hal had gone a ways ahead to get a better look at what was going on, and Weaver was standing there with his pair of binoculars, surveying the scene. And Evelyn was once again left sitting on the hood of a car, waiting to be told what to do. She wished that Max was there. He had always loved telling her what to do, not that she ever really listened to him to begin with. Evelyn tapped out the tune of 'Claire de Lune' on the hot metal she was sitting on, her eyes trained not on the structure, but on her commanding officer. When he began to slowly turn around, she sat up in attention. When Hal and the other scouts got back, he began to climb up on the trunk of the car she was sitting on. "Circle up, everyone!"

Evelyn hopped from her seat and rounded the car so she was standing in front of Weaver. She closed her eyes and bounced on the balls of her feet in anticipation. She felt a sharp poke in her side and found Hal standing next to her, looking far too innocent for said innocence to be plausible. "Hands to yourself, grabby," she muttered under her breath.

Hal's response was dripping with affected indignation. "Please, Evelyn, don't flatter yourself. I am trying to listen to our fearless leader."

Evelyn wanted to make a witty retort, but was cut off by Weaver's resounding voice. "If the 4th and 5th had made it to their set point, their runners were supposed to meet us here. We're going to have to assume that they've been taken out." Evelyn's body tensed. They were in this alone. Weaver continued on, a new layer of gravitas added to his speech. "This means we got two choices—retreat or keep going. Now, you men know how I feel. But each of you has to make your own decision."

Anthony was the first to respond with a shout of "I'm in!"

Evelyn chimed in afterwards. "I always was!"

Evelyn glanced at Hal who was nodding next to her. "I'm in too!" He looked down at her and took her hand. They smiled at each other as they heard a chorus of assent chime around them. Hal broke the gaze and locked into eye contact with Weaver. With a determined expression on his face, he gave a nod of assurance.

Weaver nodded and smiled at the wave of support. "OK. We split up here. Each of the squads, four separate charges—one for each leg of the damned thing. Squad one—North leg. Two—east. Three—South leg. I'll stay here and take the West leg. At 1900 hours I'll send Hal and Anthony to recon with the other squads. Everybody's in place, we wait until dark, move in, position our charges. At exactly 2100 hours, we light those fuses and get the hell out." He looked at the convict turned semi-savior of the 2nd Mass. "Pope, those bombs of yours had better be good to go."

With his habitual antagonism slightly suppressed, Pope answered surprisingly succinctly. "You get 'em there, they'll blow."

Weaver nodded. "Everybody's gonna be on foot after that. Each squad's gonna have to make its way back to the school any way you can. That's it. Let's move!"

Time to start. The engines turned on again. Evelyn sighed and looked at Hal. "You ready for this."

He smirked and echoed her response from earlier that day. "I was born ready."

It didn't take that long to get to the strike position near the west leg of the tower. Time to stop. Time to wait. Weaver was busy talking strategy with his buddy Gibson and Pope was busy being antisocial, so that left Hal, Anthony, and Evelyn with a lot of time to kill, about two hours, before the first two were supposed to set out. They quickly blew through all the typical road trip games like 'Desert Island Books'. Some of the answers were quite surprising. Evelyn definitely hadn't expected Machiavelli's _The Prince_ to be on Anthony's list and Hal hadn't expected _Dune_ to be on hers. Hal had even fessed up to _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_. But soon they were bored again. Evelyn was about to suggest 'Truth or Dare', but they weren't at a sixth grade girl's sleepover party. But then Anthony suggested 'I've Never'. He actually seemed quite enthusiastic.

"So the deal is someone says somethin' starting with the words 'I've never' like 'I've never…punched a guy in the face' and if you have—you drink."

Evelyn gave a perplexed frown. "You drink?"

"Oh, yeah. Usually this game involves lots and lots of alcohol. Don't think that would be a good idea here but, still. Usually the drinkin' gets people talkin' more."

Evelyn nodded slowly. "Mmph. In Vino Veritas."

Anthony gave her a strange look. "Yeah, whatever. So you guys up for it? We're on the honor system and stuff."

Hal quirked his head to the side. "Yeah, yeah sure. I know I'm curious."

Evelyn let out a long, slow breath. "So basically this is 'Truth or Dare', but I can't make Hal put his hair in pigtails and ride his bike around our block three times singing Yankee Doodle?" Hal spit out the water he was drinking while Anthony erupted into a fit of knee-slapping laughter. Evelyn considered the proposition for a second. "Sure, I'll play. In fact, I'll start. I've never worn pink." And two her immense amusement, all three of them took a drink.

About an hour went by with a bunch of trivial statements. I've never cheated on a test (apparently Evelyn was a teacher's pet, though she just maintained that she had never needed to cheat). I've never gone skinny-dipping (apparently Anthony was a prude). I've never hand a pillow-fight in my underwear with a group of coeds ("Seriously, guys? That's a porn film, not real life. You might be drinking, but these lips are sealed, not a drop of water shall pass." Apparently Evelyn was also a buzzkill).

Eventually the questions got more significant, and consequently more uncomfortable. I've never beaten someone. Evelyn drank. I've never shot anyone. Evelyn drank. I've never killed a man. Evelyn drank. Anthony cleared his throat awkwardly at that one. He had been the one to ask the question, and she had been the only one to drink. Awkward. He had been about to ask, but then Hal gave him a death glare that led to silence. Then Hal spoke and it got worse.

"I've never been in love."

Anthony immediately took a long swig from his canteen. After seeing the curious looks he simply said, "Her name was Dominique," and stopped talking. Evelyn felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach. It would be so easy to lie, but she respected the honor system and Anthony had already revealed his little secret. Evelyn took a quick swig, avoiding everyone's gaze and hoping that nobody would notice. But Hal did notice. "Evey, since when…I mean who—"

Gibson's voice interrupted him. "Alright, it's 1900 hours. Anthony, Hal, it's time to move out."

Anthony jumped up, eager to end the waiting, but Hal seemed more reluctant. He stood up to go, but before leaving he looked at her meaningfully and leaned in. "Hey, Evey, um, when I get back can we talk about….some things?"

Evelyn sat up. "Sure, Hal. What did you have in mind?"

He scratched the back of his head. "It's just that…I, um, I just wanted to say that—"

"MASON!"

Evelyn patted his arm. "It's OK, Hal. We'll talk about whatever you want to talk about. Let's just make sure we get out of this in one piece first."

He bit his lip. "Yeah, later. Definitely later." He pointed at her awkwardly. "I'll see you…later." He walked backwards for a bit before turning and climbing on his bike and riding off.

Evelyn groaned and collapsed backwards on the hood of the car.

A voice came from behind her. "You two are _so_ sweet. It's like I'm watching 'The Notebook' all over again."

"Laugh all you want, Pope, but keep in mind that you just admitted to watching 'The Notebook' and don't think for a second that I'm going to let that little confession slip by."

She felt the hood of the car shake as someone sat down next to her. "You know, you two crazy kids have really got to get this whole situation sorted out. If the tension isn't driving you crazy, it certainly is making me sick to my stomach."

"The condition of your stomach isn't anywhere close to the top of my list of priorities, Pope."

"What about your happiness, then. You've got what—a few years before you're being sent off to the great beyond? You're wasting your valuable time and ruining many of my perfectly good meals, so just shut up and jump him before it's too late."

Evelyn laughed. "Careful, now, Pope. You almost seem like you care about my feelings. It's making me uncomfortable to be around you."

She felt Pope push off the car. "Yeah, whatever cupcake. Just make sure you're in the right headspace when we're blowing shit up, because if you make us dead, I'll fucking kill you."

"THANK YOU FOR RESPECTING MY FEELINGS!" As she heard Pope curse at her, she couldn't help but smile.

She closed her eyes and waited for the return of Anthony and Hal. She found herself almost falling asleep hen she heard the humming noise of motorbikes approaching in the distance. It hadn't been that long since they had left. While Evelyn was glad they were back safe, the fact that they were here ahead of schedule was a bad sign.

Before Anthony even got off his bike he was yelling. "Mechs are moving into the position around the structure!"

"What about the other teams?" Weaver's voice was anxious.

Hal jumped off his bike and began walking towards them. "We can't get that close. We saw smoke coming from one of the set points. Looks like an attack. I don't think the other teams made it."

"The way those mechs were movin', man," Anthony broke in, "you got to know they're ready for us."

Evelyn crossed her arms. "You think something tipped them off?"

Weaver turned his back to them, his hand wiping at his mouth nervously again. "Hal, Walsh, get your bikes. The two of you are going back to the school."

Hal held an arm out to stop Weaver's train of thought. "We're going with the rest of you, right?"

But Weaver shook his head. "I don't know about the rest of us, but I'm staying here."

Evelyn took a step back and snorted in laughter. "You are on all kinds of pills if you think I'm going anywhere."

Hal moved next to her. "Same here. There is no way I'm leaving. I've made it—we've made it—this far, and whatever the next move is I'm going to see it through."

"The next move is for you to fall back. You go back and tell Tom that the 4th and 5th are gone. Civilians need to evacuate."

Hal took a step forward, looking Weaver dead in the eye. "If you're still going for the structure, you're going to need every man possible on this job."

Evelyn was indignant. "You know, Captain Kangaroo, I've had just about enough of this ageism bullshit, and if you think—"

"Listen to me. There'll be other battles after today, but only if these people know that these things can be hit, and they can be hit hard. You can _help_ by going back and telling everyone you see that the fighters of the 2nd Mass carried out an attack against the alien structure over Boston. You tell them the resistance drew blood. You give these people hope and ten you can lead the next fight and the one after that."

"Captain—"

"That's an order!"

Anthony walked up and put one hand on Evelyn's and Hal's shoulder. "Be careful. Both of you."

After a few moments of intense staring Evelyn and Hal slowly turned away from the others and started towards the bikes. Evelyn was muttering the whole time. "This is bullshit. Macho, ageist bullshit. And if they die on us, I swear to God I will kick all of their asses. I'll kick Weaver's twice for all the shit he's put us through these last few days."

As they reached the bikes and straddled them she heard Pope's voice ring out. "Remember what I said, Hot Lips! Carpe the fucking Diem!"

Before Hal could ask, she angrily kicked her bike into gear and sped off back to the school.

**Thanks again to my readers for supporting me through this effort. You guys are the best!**

**REVIEWS KILL SKITTERS AND CAUSE CATASTROPHIC FAILURES IN THE MECH MACHINERY! Therefore all the characters would be grateful if you did!**


	28. The Honest Truth

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'Falling Skies' and any familiar dialogue I transcribed from my DVD Box Set. Unfortunately I don't own it.**

**Pictures of my OCs are on my profile. Copy the links and delete the spaces.**

**I made a soundtrack for the story which is also on my profile as another story. It has been updated through this final chapter. **

Chapter 28 – The Honest Truth

As frustrated as Evelyn was to have been shooed away from the mission like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, Evelyn was happy to be going back the school. But when she arrived, what she saw plunged a dagger of anxiety into her heart. The school was virtually empty. All she could make out were chaotic shadows darting about and fire glinting off the empty husk of a mech that had been shot down, gaping holes in its exterior. But the skitters hadn't sent a single mech. It would be foolish to think that they would. The 2nd Mass had been enough of a thorn in their side to merit more than a single robot. Evelyn had run into more than that on a simple food run or recon mission. She slammed on the brakes of her bike, skidding a bit and sending a wave of gravel clattering against that metal of the mech. Without waiting for Hal, she jumped off, letting the bike fall to the ground unceremoniously, and ran to the school to see what was going on.

The first face she recognized was that of Jimmy. She had expected his features to be marred with fear, anxiety, and grief, but instead what she saw was elation and childlike wonder. An expression befitting the boy's youthful face, but one she had seldom seen on it. She called out after him. "Jimmy! What the hell happened? What's goin—"

The boy spun around walking backwards to his destination, whatever it was. "We freaking beat them, Evey! You should have seen it! It was awesome! They ran!" And then he ran around the side of the school, without explaining further.

Hal came up beside her. When she looked at his face, he looked just as confused as she did. "I'm going to go find my dad—tell him what's going on." And then he ran straight up the school steps, leaving Evelyn standing in the middle of the courtyard, just as bemused and confused as she had been earlier, if not more so. Evelyn glanced around her. As she glanced around, everyone was running with purpose, carrying boxes of supplies to the cars or filling those cars with gas, but they were all doing so with a smile in their eyes, if one wasn't actually on their face. Was this an evacuation or a celebration?

When she saw a blur of wavy blonde hair rushing past, she grabbed the wrist of the person attached to it. "Hey! Mags! Hold on a sec!"

When the older girl saw her, she immediately enveloped Evelyn in a hug. "Thank God you're OK!" When Maggie finally released her from the hug, she held Evelyn in place, one hand on each of the younger girl's shoulders. Evelyn felt eyes raking over, making sure that she was, in fact, alright. Then she felt a fist coming into contact with her shoulder, hard.

"OW!"

Maggie held a threatening finger in her face. "I don't know what this 'no goodbyes' thing is about, but it better fucking stop. Immediately."

Evelyn rubbed at her shoulder. "OK, OK, just don't hit me again." Evelyn looked around again. "So do you mind telling me what the bloody hell is going on here? I can't tell if this is an evacuation or frigging Christmas morning."

And then Maggie's face broke out into the same genuine smile that Evelyn had seen on Jimmy's. She blinked a bit in surprise. "Come on, Mags. What are you guys so fucking happy about?"

"It was a thing of beauty, chickadee. Uncle Scott rigged up this radio thing that jammed up skitter communications. That kid Ben managed to hook it up to the flagpole as an antenna and the things ran. They fucking turned and ran."

"Yeah, but where is everyone?"

"The civilians got evacuated about five hours ago. Max is pissed at you by the way. So's Amy."

Evelyn ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "Yeah, well, name a 24 hour period where Max isn't pissed at me for some reason or another and I'll give you a medal."

Maggie smiled a bit. "Yeah, well. You're an annoying person. So what happened with the mission?"

Evelyn shook her head. "It was a bust. 4th and 5th never showed. We broke up into squads, one for each of the legs of the structures, and three of them are gone. Probably all four by now. Weaver sent me and Hal back to spread the word of the glory of their demise or whatever." She ran her hand down her face. "If you ask me, it's all bullshit. Weaver needed that win for himself more than he did for the 2nd Mass. It was a hail-Mary. Win or die trying. The way they left things, it was a frigging suicide mission and they knew it. It was like the skitters knew we were coming. They drew in around that structure like they knew it was going to be attacked."

Maggie nodded sadly. "That would be Rick."

Evelyn's head snapped up. "Rick?"

"Yeah. He ran off and spilled the beans. Told the skitters everything."

Evelyn punched the door of a nearby car. "Dammit! We were going straight into a fucking trap!" She started mentally berating herself. Ben had said that he would tell Tom about Rick, about everything he knew. Apparently he had waited too long. And it was as much her fault as it was his. "Weaver's as good as dead." She took a long breath. "I have to fix this. I have to go get him."

As Evelyn tried to walk off, Maggie grabbed her arm. "You don't have to fix everything, chickadee. It's not all on you."

Evelyn looked Maggie in the eye. "That may be true, but this time it is on me."

Maggie's voice was low. "You go, odds are you're not coming back."

Evelyn gave her a sad smile. "It's the same odds every time I go. But this time at least I'm saying bye." She pulled the girl who had become her sister into a tight hug. "Take care of them, Mags. You're the strongest person I know. Now it's time to prove it."

She released Maggie and set out to find Tom when she heard her friend's voice echo across the courtyard. "Be careful! Don't do anything stupid!"

Evelyn turned and shot a wink back at her friend. "You know me, Mags! I'm always careful, then again I'm always stupid too! Guess we'll see which one wins out!"

Evelyn wove through the mass of people running back and forth between the school and the cars. It was like that game 'Frogger' she used to play when she was a kid. The one where you're a frog that's trying to make its way across the street without being crushed by all the cars passing by. It required a lot of maneuvering before she finally made it into the school, but even there she was moving against the current. Everybody was on their way out while she was forcing her way in. She passed by Uncle Scott who was hauling what Evelyn presumed to be the signal jamming contraption out front. When she asked about Tom, he pointed her in the direction of the medical bay. When Evelyn finally made it there and rounded the corner, she saw something that would have made her emit an undignified girly squeal had she been unable to shove her fist in her mouth quickly enough. Tom and Anne were kissing.

Evelyn quickly threw herself out of the room as quickly as possible, hoping beyond all hope that neither of them had noticed her there. Bad timing. She had always had bad timing. Even from birth when she had stubbornly decided it was time to come out of the womb two months ahead of schedule. She was always out of sync with the world around her. She was either early or late, moving too quickly or too slowly. And she had a feeling that her bad timing was going to bit her in the ass really soon.

But still. She couldn't help but smile at what she had just seen. In that moment of chaos, something so simple could make everything else fall away. That kiss between those two people gave her hope for the future. Not for hers, but for theirs. Resilience. That was why humanity would ultimately win (or at least so she hoped). You could lose everything, and come out of that tragedy ready to build something all over again. And you would fight for the possibility of a better tomorrow, even if there isn't one in sight. Tom had lost his wife, who he had loved beyond reason. Anne had lost her husband and child. They were both broken in the same way, but somehow they had managed to find each other, and fix each other. They gave each other something to fight for. And damn it if that wasn't beautiful.

Evelyn walked down the hall a bit, unwilling to be the one to interrupt that moment. She leaned against the wall and slid down into the sitting position as she had done so many times before. She could feel the exhaustion in the marrow of her bones. Not that kind of physical weariness that came from a long jog or an hour spent at the gym, but that weariness of life. The weariness that came from living too much in such a short amount of time. The weariness that came from the knowledge that you wouldn't be able to live as much or as long as you wanted to. It was a kind of hollow feeling, an emptiness in her chest. She filled it with fight, but when she paused the feeling crept up on her again. Every time she slowed down it was there, haunting her. So she would start running again, start fighting again and it would go away for a little while, but she always knew that it was there waiting for her when she stopped. Start and stop. She was living her life by halves, but at this point there wasn't really any point to living it any other way. She looked at people like Tom and Anne, like Max and Cecelia, and they seemed to fit. She and Max were the same kind of broken once, but now he was whole. Cecelia had made him whole. She was still one half of a friendship necklace, waiting for that other half to come in and complete that cheesy heart design. The only difference was that, as soon as that second piece made its appearance, hers was going to disappear. She was going to die. She couldn't inflict this same hollow feeling on anyone, let alone Hal. Even when they weren't speaking he was the closest thing she had had to a friend all those years, and now….She couldn't let him need her. It wasn't fair to him.

She heard the door down the hall creak open, interrupting her reverie, and looked up to find Tom emerging, his face somewhere between elation, determination, and hesitancy. Evelyn could read in his face some of those same thoughts she had just been thinking. She slowly stood up, doing the best to keep her face placid and calm. "I hear you guys had quite the adventure today. With an interesting outcome. Something about a skitter death ray? Wish I had been there to see that."

Tom was scratching the back of his head in the same bemused way Hal did. "Yeah." It came out in a sigh that seemed emanate from some place between relief and anxiety. "Yeah, it was interesting day."

Evelyn gave him a penetrating look. "But it's not over yet, is it?"

Tom's eyes flickered to hers a few times, but did not maintain contact. He walked straight past her, continuing down the hallway without uttering a word. Evelyn followed after him, picking up her pace as he did until they found themselves outside the school fast approaching the GTO. "Tom? You know how stubborn I am, Tom. I'm not getting left in the dark on this one. Not on this one. You're going after them, aren't you? After Weaver and the others?"

Tom didn't answer her. He just began throwing supplies into the GTO. But then again, that was enough of an answer. Hal and Uncle Scott were already there, fiddling with dials and wires. Evelyn readjusted the rifle slung across her shoulder and peered in the car. "What's my nana's 'music machine' doing in the back of the war-mobile?"

Uncle Scott glanced up at her for a second. "This is the signal jammer Ben and I developed. If it broadcasts at the right frequency, it messes with their communications. Hopefully it'll get Tom into Boston without any problems."

Ben walked up to her rubbing his forehead like he had the world's worst hangover. "This must really be messing their heads up. They haven't changed the signal yet."

Evelyn put a hand on his shoulder. "You OK there, Ben?"

Ben shook his head, still rubbing his fingers against his temples. "I just hope that the skitters are feeling as crappy as I am."

Uncle Scott extracted himself from the back seat of the GTO and leaned on the roof. He took a deep breath and looked at the small group that had gathered around the car. "OK, so, I hooked the antenna leads up to the chassis, which means that this whole car is one big antenna. You keep the generator full of gas, and, uh, you're good to go."

Ben approached the car nervously. "What if they change the frequency again?"

Tom took a deep breath, eyeing the setup. "Well, let's hope they don't."

"Dad, I can help!" Evelyn could hear the desperation in Ben's voice. He didn't just want to help, he needed to help. Evelyn understood that. After everything that had apparently gone down with Rick while she had been away, he needed some sort of vindication, to tip the scales in his favor in some way. On one side there were his mistakes, on the other there were his contributions. He just wanted to make sure that one side outweighed the other. Evelyn could understand that because she had been there. Human suffering became some sort of currency. You either caused it or assuaged it. All you could try and do is stay in the black, because being in the red cost lives.

Tom gave his middle son a look of sympathy. He had some idea of what Ben was going through too. His eyes were soft. "You already did, Ben."

Evelyn grabbed Ben by the elbow and dragged him aside. "Hey, look, I know that you're feeling a bit guilty here, but you saved a lot of lives today. You've got to let the other stuff go."

"But I—"

Evelyn put a hand on his shoulder to silence him. "But nothing Ben. You did good. You used them against themselves. You're not Rick, and you're not going to become him, OK?"

Ben's only response was a half-hearted nod. She glanced up and saw that Hal was eyeing her and his brother with an expression that was simultaneously soft and suspicious. Evelyn offered up a half-hearted smile which he returned after a few moments of what seemed like serious contemplation. Hal had been making that face a lot lately. Evelyn wanted to know what it was that he was thinking, but she was too afraid to ask. She gave Ben's shoulder a final, reassuring squeeze before moving back to the car.

When she walked up next to Hal, he appeared to have fished out a worn map. Evelyn squinted through the dark to get a better look at it. Among all the delicate lines that marked the roads and rivers and borders there was one that had been drawn in angry, black sharpie. It was the road to Boston. She glanced between Hal and Tom. She was right, he was going back. "So I drew the route that we took to get down there. I wish you would reconsider, or at least bring—"

"I'm coming with you."

All eyes turned to Evelyn. Tom spoke to her slowly, as if she was a child who was having trouble understanding instructions. "No, no you're not. You need to be safe."

Evelyn rolled her eyes, not exactly discouraging the image of the petulant teenager Tom had no doubt developed in his brain. "Tom, we're in danger no matter where we are. And if I'm right, if we do find those guys, they're going to be in need of medical assistance. Do you know how to do a cross-stitch? Or how to amputate if it comes to that?" The question hung in the air. All of them knew that it was a rhetorical question, because there was only one answer. No. None of them knew how to do any of that. And if they did find Weaver and the others, it was more than likely that they would need her services. "If you don't take me with you in that car, then I'm just going to commandeer one of those bikes and follow you."

There were a few moments of silence before Uncle Scott broke in quietly. "I hate to say it, Tom, but she has a point."

"Scott—"

"No, I've talked to Anne. She said that Evelyn was good with combat medicine. I mean with Dai the work was messy, but it did its job. I gotta say, when I was in Korea…it's not easy to sew a guy up while you're being shot at, and if she can do that you're gonna want her there in case things go south. And Anne can't go with you, she's needed here too much. I don't like it any more than you do, but you should take her."

Tom stared her down for a few moments, but Evelyn stared right back, undaunted. Eventually he broke down. "Damn teenagers. Do you guys understand anything about the chain of command?"

Evelyn threw her pack in the back seat and looked at him with eyebrows raised. "Seeing as it was only yesterday that you were the central figure in a mutiny which took place because our commanding officer was ignoring _his_ orders, I really don't think you have the high ground in this argument, Tom."

He let out a reluctant laugh. "I guess you have a point there."

Tom made a move to open the driver's door, but Hal slammed it shut. "If she's going, then I'm going too. Don't give me that look, Dad. If she's dealing with the wounded and you're off doing something else, she's going to need a driver. And theoretically with that signal jammer we shouldn't have any problems, right?"

A silent conversation seemed to take place between father and son, one consisting exclusively of expressive faces, pleading eyes, and shakes of the head. Whatever Hal's argument had been, it seemed to win out. Tom let out a long sigh. "Fine. Both of you in, now. But the first sign of trouble and you had back. Immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir!" Evelyn said with a facetious salute before throwing herself into the car..

She saw Ben approach the car and talk quietly with Tom. Evelyn gave him a half-hearted wave, one which Ben didn't return. All she received was a series of awkward glances. She could see that Ben felt even more guilty than she did over the fallout with Rick. She had given him the chance to come clean, and he hadn't. But that was only three days ago. Neither of them had expected things to come to a point that quickly. After a few moments of mutters, Tom's voice broke through. "No. Absolutely not. You're evacuating with the others. I need to know that you're safe. It's non-negotiable." Evelyn continued to shoot surreptitious glances at the three family members. They were talking quietly. She couldn't understand exactly what it was that they were saying, but she could guess. Tom enveloped both of them into a tight hug. Evelyn felt her chest constrict. They were what a family should be, and as much as she knew it necessary to head back to Boston, she couldn't help but feel like she played a small role in breaking them apart.

Tom climbed into the driver's seat muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "fucking unbelievable" before he threw the GTO into gear and took off down the road to Boston once again. His anger was out of character, but his frustration was understandable.

Evelyn sank down in her seat, resting her knees up against the back of the seat, and a gun in her lap. They bumped down the road in silence. There was a sort of electric energy in that car. The air crackled with it. Something big was about to go down, and Evelyn could feel it. From the look on Hal's face, he felt it too. They were coming to the conclusion of this chapter of their story. The attack on the structure and the circumstances surrounding it had occupied so much of their lives, it had been such a prominent issue, Evelyn wasn't quite sure what she would do with herself afterwards. If there was one thing that Evelyn hated, it was uncertainty. For her entire life before the invasion, everything had had stages. Whether it was school or piano lessons or surgery, everything had had order. Heading out into the great unknown with no clue of what to do next terrified her.

The GTO hit an especially large pothole, sending Evelyn and the gun in her lap flying into the air. "Whoa, there," she said grabbing hold of the errant firearm, "Better make sure that the safety's on."

Hal turned to her, a wild expression on his face. "What the hell?" When he caught the sly expression on her face, he rolled his eyes and allowed his head to fall back on the headrest. "Damn it, Evey, that thing was pointing at my face."

"Hence the joke. You've really got to lighten up, Hal."

"We're driving into a war zone and you're telling me to lighten up?"

Evelyn pursed her lips and gave a definitive nod. "So it would seem, Hal, so it would seem."

Evelyn leaned her head back and stared out the window. The light of the stars was peaking through the leaves of the trees that passed by. It glinted of the scorched metal of the abandoned cars. They were the same cars she had passed earlier that day, but the dark made them different. It was like she was looking at the spectre of times gone by, the ghosts of rush hour traffic. What was once mothers and fathers on their way home from work or kids on their way home from soccer practice were just empty husks. Cars that were once filled with laughter or family squabbles or people singing along to the radio held only silence and scorched fabric. Hal cleared his throat causing Evelyn to jump. "Why are you really going back, Evey? I mean—what are you hoping to gain? Why risk your life again? There's nobody out there you can save this time. Weaver and the others are probably dead. There's nobody there to rescue."

Evelyn furrowed her eyebrows. "You still think I'm doing this for my ego? Some misguided hero complex or something?"

Hal's head snapped to look at her. "What? No! No, no, no. I learned my lesson last time." He shot her a few hesitant glances. "Please don't yell at me again."

Evelyn threw her hands up. "You're safe."

"OK, good. I just—I wanted to know why."

Evelyn nodded. "Fair enough. I'm going—well, I'm going because I wanted to stay to begin with. Because I want to see that goddamn thing blown to kingdom come. Because I want to see this through, no matter what the outcome is." She glanced up at Hal. "I mean, I feel like I have to. I've come this far. If I'm not there at the end, I'll always regret it. Wouldn't you?"

Hal gave a definitive nod. "Yeah, I would regret it. But that's not the reason I came. I mean—it's one of the reasons, but not the only one. Not even the main one."

Evelyn studied his face. "And what's the main one."

Hal smirked. "Keeping you out of trouble of course. You seem to have made a habit of getting yourself blown up, and every time you get stuck in the hospital, I get stuck with 'Crazy' Lee. He smells and isn't nearly as pretty to look at."

Evelyn laughed. "Glad to know I rank so high on your list of priorities."

"Yeah, well, that and I like blowing shit up."

"Pshah. Who doesn't?"

They felt the car slow down. Tom's voice carried in from the front. "OK, guys. We're going dark. The jamming signal should keep the skitters off our tail, but we want to be careful just in case they changed their signal frequencies. So, when we find the others just keep quiet and stay behind me. Always behind me, no exceptions."

The GTO slowed to a crawl, carefully weaving between the mounds of debris that littered the road to Boston. The slower the car crawled, the faster Evelyn's pulse raced. She wasn't sure if she was anxious to get to their destination or terrified of what it was that she would find. Maybe a little of both. Adrenaline was a bit ambiguous. No, wait, it's called epinephrine now. Harris had been annoyingly specific about that.

Evelyn started drumming her fingers on the muzzle of her gun again. She hadn't done that before the 2nd Mass. She had picked up the habit from Hal, and it annoyed her when she did it just as much as it annoyed her when he did. But it was a compulsion now. Whenever she was the least bit nervous, the tapping started and it made her even more anxious. Another vicious cycle.

"Evey, just breathe. It's gonna be fine."

She stopped the tapping and gave Hal a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

They closer the got to the structure, the more concentrated the debris became. Then came the fires. Some were large, raging in buildings, and others were small, occupying spots where gasoline had been sprayed across the streets. Evelyn's eyes were glued to the surroundings, her breaths coming in out in short, anxious gasps. She heard Hal mutter a soft "holy crap" and somehow they found themselves holding hands again. It was like a mutual lifeline, each one trying to give comfort and support to the other. She glanced up and saw the lights flying towards the structure. For some reason the ships were homing in. Evelyn felt the corners of her lips quirk upwards. Apparently Uncle Scott's radio rig packed quite the punch. They were scrambling. They were running. Maggie was right, it was a thing of beauty.

Tom's voice carried from the front seat again, breaking her reverie. "There's Pope's car. I'm going to go check it out. The two of you, make sure you stay behind me."

The car pulled to a stop and the three of them quietly filed out of the car. Evelyn grasped at her gun, ready to shoot at anything that threatened her. She heard the sound of a gun cocking and quickly took aim, only to find Pope on the other side of her gun, leaning against the frame of an upturned SUV, clutching Anthony's lifeless body to his chest. When she saw the two of them there, she felt the knot in her stomach twist even tighter, now feeling like a hot ball of lead.

She heard a wheezing laugh erupt from Pope's barely recognizable face. "Damn, Professor, try making a human noise next time. Damn near blew your head off." He cocked his head to the side. "Oh, look! You brought Nancy Drew and one of the Hardy Boys with you."

Tom ran up and felt for a pulse against Anthony's mangled neck. "Anthony—Is he?"

Pope let out a gurgling cough. "He's breathing but he's—he's bleeding really bad."

Evelyn quickly removed her pack and slung her rifle across her back. She grabbed a flashlight and shone it in Pope's eyes. "Oy! Stop it! You're going to give me glaucoma or something."

Evelyn ignored Pope and dropped next to the two limp figures. "Your pupils are showing uneven dilation. You've got a pretty bad concussion, but you'll be fine in a couple of days." She moved on to Anthony. "Where's he bleeding?"

Pope straightened against the car. "Looks like his left leg."

Evelyn leaned over Anthony's body and pulled out a knife, quickly and surgically cutting through the blood-soaked fabric of his fatigues. The whole scenario reminded her of when she had had to amputate Max's leg. She shoved away the sick feeling that coursed through her body. There would be time to vomit later. Pope pulled himself out from under Anthony and stepped back while Evelyn worked. She heard him muttering to Tom while she wiped up the mass of blood that had accumulated. Even in this situation, Pope maintained his apathetic drawl. "I'm not the biggest fan of super-cop here, but figuring Christmas is right around the corner—"

Evelyn snorted darkly. "It's September, Pope. There's nothing to be ashamed of in feeling the warm and fuzzies."

"Red, in the entirety of my life I have never approached anything resembling the word 'fuzzy'."

"Whatever you say." Pope continued to pontificate, but Evelyn tuned him out, having finally reached the wound on Anthony's leg. It was about eight inches long, spanning from mid-thigh to mid-calf. Evelyn let out an audible sigh of relief when she saw that none of the tendons had been cut. She brought out the needle and thread and began sewing. It was neater than what she had done to Dai, but he still needed more. He needed Anne. She covered the area in sugar to stop the bleeding and wrapped the wound tightly to stop the blood flow. When she looked up, Tom and Pope were talking abut Weaver and the skitter retreat, and Hal was just standing by looking worried. Evelyn stood up and pushed the hair out of her eyes. She felt Anthony's blood smudge across her forehead. Blood. She would always be covered in it. She cleared her throat and caught the attention of Tom and Pope. "I've done what I can, but he's gonna need more help than I can give him. We need to get him to Anne as soon as possible."

Tom rubbed his beard and nodded his head. "OK, OK, Hal help me get him up." They both supported Anthony under his shoulders and slowly made their way to the GTO. Evelyn took the opportunity to check out Pope for any further injuries. He had a slight limp, but seemed largely intact. "Alright, Pope, other than the fact that it looks like an elephant sat on your face and you have a pretty bad concussion, you seem fine."

Pope laughed. "You sure do know how to make a guy feel special, Hot Lips. Did you take my advice yet?"

Evelyn leaned down and grabbed her supplies. "Believe it or not, Pope, I don't feel like you have the qualifications necessary to be my life coach."

"Yeah, well, I might not have the best track record when it comes to domestic bliss and all that crap, but when I'm right I'm right."

She heard the sound of Anthony being loaded onto the back of the GTO. She turned around to see Hal and Tom returning. Tom had determination in his eyes. "OK, so here's what's going to happen. You three are going to take this car and get Anthony back to the 2nd Mass and I'm going to find Weaver." Hal opened his mouth to protest, but Tom held up a hand to silence him. "Look, I'm not taking any arguments. You two wanted to come, you came, you're going. I'll rendezvous with you back at the new location, hopefully with Weaver."

Pope began moving towards the car, but shouted back over his shoulder, "Last time I saw Weaver, he was headed towards party central. Seeing as I didn't here anything like a 'boom' I'm guessing he didn't make it."

Tom sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, well, I've got to try."

Evelyn nodded slowly. There was no use contradicting or nay saying. Tom was not going to budge. "I'll stay with Anthony in the back. Pope and Hal can ride up front. We should get going soon, Anthony really needs more help." She pulled Tom into a quick embrace and then hopped in the back of the car, checking over Anthony's wounds again. She glanced up to see Hal and Tom talking earnestly again. Those two always seemed to end in a heart-felt tête-à-tête. They were always saying goodbye to each other. It must be difficult.

"Let's get a move on!" Pope shouted from the passenger's seat where he had ensconced himself, banging his hand on the side of the door impatiently. Hal hugged his father and broke away, making his way to the driver's door. He sat down and turned the car on. Pope yelled again over the revving of the engine. "Oh, and Professor! Check out the trunk of our car!" Evelyn squinted through the dark to see Tom pry open the trunk and pull out an RPG tube. She could hear the smirk in Pope's voice. "Pretty, ain't it? Standard army issue, only with a mech metal shell. It'll do in a pinch."

Tom nodded. "Oh, it just might."

And then Pope said something she never thought she would hear from him. "Hey, Tom! Good luck to you."

Evelyn let out a shaky breath. Things were coming to a close, and she could only hope that it would end well. She looked at the rear-view mirror and made eye contact with Hal. His eyes were filled with worry, as they always were when he had to leave part of his family behind. She gave him a smile that she hoped was comforting. It must have worked, because she heard the engine rev again and felt the car lurch forward, away from the structure, away from the destruction, and away from Tom. She stared at the silhouetted of that archetypal father figure as it retreated into the distance until she couldn't see it anymore.

They bumped down the road at a reasonable pace. Evelyn did her best to keep Anthony stable and keep him from being too shaken by the car. The drive was mostly uneventful until about a half-hour after they left Boston, there was a terribly loud 'boom' that resonated out and rattled the windows of the car. Hal slammed on the brakes. "What the hell was that?"

Evelyn, Hal, and Pope all jumped out of the car and stared in the direction of the explosion. It had come from Boston. And what they saw was spectacular. The structure was disintegrating. It was caught in a massive ball of red flames and chunks were falling to the ground. The ships that had still been moving in now buzzed around the ashes uselessly, like fruit flies circling an over-ripe banana. Evelyn felt a huge smile cover her face. The 2nd Mass had drawn blood in a big way. The structure was no longer a monument to the alien menace, its ashes were a monument to human ingenuity. Evelyn felt herself start to laugh, and she wasn't the only one. All three of them, Hal, Evelyn, and Pope, were laughing like a little kid on their birthday. Evelyn pulled Hal into a tight hug, clutching him to her and burying her face into the leather of the jacket. It smelled like home. She ignored Pope's unnecessary quip of "get a room" and reveled in that moment and in that victory. When she finally pulled away, the two of them stood there side by side and watched that structure burn, forgetting everything else.

It was Pope who finally brought them back to reality, muttering something about super-cop needing a meeting with Dr. Quinn. Evelyn and Hal both shook themselves back to attention and headed back to the car. But they hadn't made it more than twenty minutes before Hal had to slam on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt. "Jesus!" Evelyn looked to see him leaning over the steering wheel. There was a figure standing in the middle of the road. It was a girl. Blonde. Pretty. And she looked familiar. And then a wave of memory crashed through Evelyn's mind. It was the same girl she had seen talking with Clayton the night he made the deal with the fishhead things. "She's harnessed! She's with the squiggly things we saw on the recon! Let's get out of here!"

But Hal didn't listen to her. Instead he got out of the car. Evelyn could feel the anxiety coursing through her veins. "Hal! What the hell are you—"

But then Hal said a single word that shut Evelyn up completely. "Karen?"

Evelyn froze. This was Karen. The girl she had agreed to help him save not two days ago. Evelyn jumped out of the car and ran towards Hal, staying a few steps behind him as he spoke. He started to take a step towards her, but then stopped himself, realizing that the situation was much more precarious than a simple reunion. "Karen, it's me! It's Hal!"

When Karen replied, it was with that same monotone voice that seemed characteristic of all harnessed children. "I know, Hal. It's nice to see you again."

Evelyn walked so that she was directly behind Hal, standing at his shoulder. "What do you want?"

"Just to talk."

"Bullshit." Evelyn glanced back to see Pope leaning out of the window of the car, a cocked gun in his hand. Evelyn gestured at him to be calm. They needed more information. They needed to know exactly what it was they were facing.

The lilting, feminine monotone echoed across that small stretch of road. "We mean you no harm. We wish only to understand."

The expression on Karen's face was completely blank. The words she was speaking were not her own, she had used 'we'. They were carefully crafted phrases, designed to put them at ease. She was a mouthpiece. Evelyn threw her head back and shouted at the sky, "After what you've done, at least have the courtesy to show your face when you speak!"

Karen quirked her head to the side. Behind her a ship with glowing blue lights descended from the sky. Hal stumbled back a few steps, ramming into Evelyn who did her best to keep him standing straight. It hit the ground and a door slid open, revealing one of the tall bipeds. Evelyn shivered at seeing one so close. It walked up next to Karen, and her lips began to move again. "They did not expect this level of resistance from the humans. They find that…..surprising. And they wish to speak with you, Evelyn Walsh."

Evelyn felt her spine stiffen. Hal made to move in front of her, but she put her hand on his shoulder and took a few steps forward. "How do you know my name?"

"They know much."

"And why do they want me?"

Karen looked to the fish-head and back at Evelyn. "They find you….interesting. They know much about who you are, what you've done, and what you've been through. The girl with the broken brain."

Evelyn's eyes widened. "How did y—"

"The boy, Rick. He could hear it in your head as I can hear it now. It's not so different from the links that we share with our masters. It's only much less remarkable and much more deadly."

Evelyn shook her head. "It doesn't explain why they want me."

"Yes it does. They do not understand why, with nothing to live for, you keep fighting as you do. It serves no purpose for you, and yet you continue."

Evelyn heard the slamming of a car door as Pope walked out carrying a rifle. "I don't give a flying fuck what you bastards want. Explain to me why I don't shoot you right now?"

Karen's gaze shifted to the belligerent outlaw. "Because you would be dead the moment you pulled the trigger." Evelyn felt the other girl's eyes on her again. "They can force you to come, but they would rather not. And if you do not come, they will take Ben. He is still connected, and they will take him from you."

Evelyn took in a shaky breath. She glanced around her surroundings. There was no cover, nowhere they could hide, only asphalt and trees and quiet. Escape was impossible, and if they did manage to get out, Ben's life was forfeit. She thought of the harnessed skitters, of the rough patch of skin that was growing on the boy's back, and of the way he was rubbing his temples at the sound of that signal jammer. There was still a link there, and they could use it against him. Evelyn clenched her jaw. She had finally been forced to make the decision she had been toying with for the past few months. She was turning herself into a martyr. She looked into the dead eyes of that strange, tall creature and gave a slight nod. When she spoke, she tried to keep her voice strong and hide the fear that was creeping into her bones. "Pope, get back in the car."

"Red, you can't be seri—"

"I said get. Back. In. The. Car."

There was some cursing and the sound of a slamming door and Evelyn knew he had done what she asked. When Evelyn turned to Hal, his eyes were filled with the fear that she was trying her level best to hide. "Evey, what are you doing."

Evelyn looked at her feet. "Hal, I need you to—Tell Max that I'm sorry for being so goddamn selfish. And for not saying goodby. Tell Amy to be extraordinary. Tell Maggie she's worth more than she thinks. Tell—d"

Hal was shaking his head frantically. "No. No, no, no. You're not—This isn't happening. You can't—"

But Evelyn barreled on, raising her eyes to meet his, all the sadness and resignation she felt written clearly across her face. "—TELL Ben he's what he wants to be, not what they want to be. Tell Matt to lay off the Cheez Whizz, and to stay a kid as long as possible. Tell—"

"NO!" Hal's scream reverberated in her ears. His expression was angry, and grief-stricken, and tender all at once. "FIVE years, Evey. You promised me five more years. Not a few days, FIVE YEARS! If I had known this was going to happen—if I knew you'd be—I wouldn't have been so damn sensitive and appropriate. I would've—"

And then Hal grabbed both sides of her face, bringing it up to meet is. The kiss was tender and his lips were shaking, whether it was with grief or anger, Evelyn couldn't tell. The kiss was short, lasting only a few seconds, but when he pulled back and searched her eyes, she was having trouble breathing. He studied her face. When he finally spoke his words were low and desperate. "I don't care about the expiration date, Evey. God, I should have said so earlier, but—I'll take whatever I can get, whatever you can give. Please, stay with me. Please."

The words were so heartfelt, it tore her to pieces. But no matter how much she wanted to get in that car and drive off with him, the situation wasn't that simple. A few meters away there was a spaceship waiting. And if she didn't go willingly, they would just take her. They would take her and kill him. And so she uttered those three little words that would shatter the dream that had been built. "What about Ben?"

Hal blinked. For a moment he had forgotten what the collateral damage would be, and any hope that there was in his face fell into grief. So Evelyn did the only thing she could do: she grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him into another kiss. She tried to convey everything she felt in that kiss. Her gratitude towards him, how much she cared about him, how badly she wanted to stay. Her arms found their way around his neck, pulling her as close to him as possible. One of his arms moved around her waist while the other made its way into her hair. When they finally broke apart, Evelyn held him in a tight hug. Bringing her mouth to his ear she quietly whispered, "I love you, Hal Mason." She brought her hands to each side of his face and pulled him in for a quick kiss before moving away towards Karen who was standing there, face still emotionless, with a hand outstretched.

Halfway to the ship, Evelyn glanced over her shoulder and threw Hal a genuine smile. "I'll be back."

Evelyn took a deep breath and continued walking. Being as familiar with death as she was, she had heard many times people telling her not to walk into the light. But here she was, walking straight into the dazzling blue light given off by the ship. Wasn't that ironic?

**Wow. There it is. I guess all I have to say is thank you for the support. A huge thank you to LMScatterbrain who has been there through everything, ever since the beginning of the story and has been my sounding board through all of this. **

**Just so you know, I imagine that last scene being set to the song 'The Honest Truth' by the band Typhoon. I would really appreciate it if you listened to it.  
**

**Please review. Thank you and good night.**


	29. Author

Author's note

So that's the end of this story. I really hope you liked it. I know that I enjoyed writing it. It has been quite the wild ride, about 130,000 words in a month and a half. There will be a sequel, but I'm not going to start working on it immediately. I'm actually in the middle of conceiving an original story. It's going to be cool, no spoilers being given though. I might go back through and revise this story, adding some and correcting grammar.

Please let me know what you think of the story. I would love to hear your opinions.

Keep your eyes peeled for 'A Different Kind of Whole'. It will follow season 2.

Oh, and just as an FYI, Tom got taken too. They will be together on the ship.


	30. Sequel is up!

Hi guys!

To all those following 'The Same Kind of Broken', I just wanted to let you know that the sequel is now up on fanfiction under the title 'A Different Type of Whole'.


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